^ 

^•fZX^Z.CA-'C/Z^ 

LIBRARY 


Statin. 


JESSIE; 


OR, 


TRYING  TO  BE  SOMEBODY, 


BY 

WALTER   AIMWELL, 

AUTBOBOV    "MABCU8,"    " WHISTLES,"  "BLL A,"    BTO. 
WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 
GOULD     AND     LINCOLN, 

59    WASHINGTON    STREET. 

NEW    YORK :     SHELDON    AND    COMPANY.- 

CINCINNATI :  GEO.  8.  BLANCHARD. 

1870. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 

GOULD    AND    LINCOLN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts, 


PREFACE. 


WHILE  this  series  of  books  is  designed 
to  furnish,  a  succession  of  pleasant  and 
instructive  lessons  and  recreations  for 
boys  and  girls,  each  volume  has  also  a 
specific  aim,  more  or  less  prominently 
wrought  into  its  woof.  The  special  ob- 
ject of  JESSIE  is  to  kindle  in  the  hearts 
of  the  young,  especially  *the  children  of 
misfortune  and  poverty,  a  pure  and  noble 
ambition,  and  to  encourage  them  to  strive 
for  that  "  good  name "  whose  price  is  far 
above  rubies,  and  that  "  conscience  void 
of  offence"  which  is  of  still  more  ines- 
timable value. 

1* 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE     NEW     HOME. 

PAQB 

The  trunk— What  made  it  so  heavy —Jessie's  gold  —The  Hapley 
family— The  separation— Jessie's  new  position  —  Her  moth- 
er's departure — The  Pageg  —  Going  to  work  —  Ronald's  flag  — 
A  patriotic  appeal— A  job  for  Jessie  — The  flag-staff—  Bo- 
nald's  shrewdness  questioned  —  Some  criticisms  on  the  flag — 
Worth  all  it  cost  —  Alterations  proposed  —  An  unexpected 
difficulty  —  How  to  make  an  American  flag  —  The  repairs  . 
completed  —  The  flag  hoisted — A  surprise  —  Crying  before 
breakfast  —  Two  sober  ones — Jessie  in  retirement — Traces  of 
tears — Henry's  visit — Homesickness — A  dory  voyage  across 
the  ocean — What  Marcus  was  thinking  about — Celebrating 
Washington's  birthday  —  Marcus  explains  his  plan — An  ob- 
jection to  a  bonfire — The  committee  of  arrangements — Prepa- 
rations for  the  celebration  —  The  pictures  —  Washington  and 
his  home — A  busy  time — The  programme — The  parlor  and  the 
audience — The  exercises  —  The  tableau  —  A  scene  not  in  the 
bill— Sound  sleepers, 19 


VIII  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    II. 

SOMETHING     ABOUT     DIARIES. 

PAGE 

How  Jessie  happened  to  keep  a  journal  —  Advantages  of  the 
habit —The  blank  book — The  title-page  —  origin  of  the  motto  —  , 
Abby  Leonard — A  cutting  remark  —  Its  effect — Jessie's  reso- 
lution—  Divine  aid  sought — Abby  conquered  by  kindness  — 
The  first  record  in  the  journal — Benny's  death  —  Specimen  of 
a  Diary  in  Dry  Measure  —  One  in  Long  Measure  —  One  in  Solid 
Measure — Which  is  best,  .  .  .  • 41 

CHAPTER  III. 

SNOW     AND     ICE. 

Building  a  snow-house  —  A  disagreement — The  work  goes  on  — 
Another  dispute — Obstinacy — View  of  the  snow-hut  —  Going 
to  see  the  ice-boat — Angry  words — Ronald's  early  life — Esquk 
inaux  snow-houses  — A  traveller's  testimony — An  ice-boat — 
Round  Hill  Pond — A  lively  scene — The  coasters — Description 
of  the  ice-boat — sailing  wrong  end  first — A  western  ice-boat— 
Invitation  declined  —  The  boat  under  sail  —  Going  home  — 
The  snow-slide  —  A  vast  heap  of  snow — A  narrow  escape — 
Thoroughly  alarmed  —  Ronald's  snow-hut, 67 

CHAPTER    IV. 

THE      REFEREE      CASE. 

Henry  missing — Oscar's  account  of  the  falling  out — Jessie  in- 
credulous—  Henry's  defence — A  reluctant  admission — Jessie's 
plan  for  settling  the  quarrel  —  Rights  of  partners  —  Henry  ob- 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAQK 

stinate — Another  proposal — Referees — Henry's  reluctance — 
He  yields — The  award  to  be  binding — Ronald's  version  of  the 
quarrel — Wherein  he  was  to  blame — He  agrees  to  the  referee 
plan — The  referees  chosen — The  meeting — Henry's  arrival — 
His  embarrassment — Ronald's  talkativeness — Fast  skating — 
Subsiding  into  silence — Examination  of  the  two  parties  —  Ro- 
nald's comments  on  the  proceedings — Anticipating  the  de- 
cision— Making  up —  Summoned  to  the  tribunal  —  The  referees 
surprised — They  take  it  coolly — Looking  after  the  fees —  Read- 
ing the  award — The  decision  carried  out — The  gallery  of 
literary  portraits — Jessie's  taste  for  drawing — Twenty-four 
characters  enigmatically  expressed— The  key, 71 


CHAPTEK    V. 

A     DAT     AT     SCHOOL. 

Two  new  comers — The  academy — The  opening  exercises — The 
sentence  on  the  blackboard — The  definition  of  wisdom — 
Knowledge  brings  promotion — Education  a  good  investment — 
Cuffee  and  the  calf — Charging  for  "the  know  how" — Building 
ahouse — The  laborers  —Masons  and  carpenters — The  "boss" — . 
The  architect — Knowledge  promotes  a  man  in  other  ways — 
Jessie's  appointment  as  assistant — The  monitorial  desk — The 
dinner  hour — Good  riddance — The  slow  boy — A  good  time 
among  the  girls  —  Abby  and  her  pickles — The  cake — Brag- 
ging— The  squint-eyed  girl — Making  fun  of  Abby — How  she 
tried  to  make  herself  pale — Is  it  scandal  to  tell  the  truth? — 
Evil  speaking — Jessie  called  to  account  —  Lucy  Grant — Stra- 
bismus, or  squinting — A  surgical  operation — The  slight  put 
upon  Lucy — Jessie  dispels  the  clouds — Closing  the  afternoon 
session— Mr.  Upton's  remarks— The  evening  hymn,  ....  91 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

SWEETS     AND     BITTERS. 

PAQB 

The  Home  Wreath — Jessie's  doubts  about  the  nature  of  scandal 
— Light  from  the  dictionary — A  note  of  inquiry — Henry  miss- 
ing— His  appearance — The  temple  of  peace  abandoned  — Hen- 
ry's explanation — His  troubles  —  Mrs.  Allen — Making  husk 
mats  —  What  Jessie  said — How  to  be  loved  —  Jessie's  entreaties 
— The  promise — The  sugar  season  —  Ronald's  sugar  enterprise 
— Tapping  the  trees  — The  sap —  Sugar  grown,  not  made  —  Boil- 
ing down  the  sap  —  Clarifying  it —  "  Sugaring  off"  — The  cakes 
—  Going  to  a  sugar  camp  — Who  went,  and  who  did  not — De- 
scription and  view  of  the  camp — Appearance  of  the  Home 
Wreath — Editorial  reply  to  Jessie's  inquiry— The  Bible  on 
scandal — Writers  on  moral  science  —  Scandal  is  the  worst 
kind  of  robbery  —  Cases  in  which  it  is  right  to  speak  evil  of  an- 
other— Prevalence  of  scandal  —  A  noble  exception — A  secret 
•well  kept — Oscar's  career, Ill 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

HOW     TO     BE     HAPPY. 

What  Henry  thought  of  his  promise — The  real  origin  of  Henry's 
troubles — Mrs.  Allen's  rigid  neatness  —  Scrubbing  through  the 
floor — Henry  roughly  touches  her  weak  point  —  Grows  reck- 
less— The  change  in  Mrs.  Allen — The  scolding  —  A  forgotten 
duty  —  Dressing  up — Henry's  altered  bearing  —  His  explan- 
ation about  the  wood — Attending  school  —  Work  and  play  — 
A  decided  improvement — An  approving  conscience — Disap- 
pointment —  Voluntary  mat-braiding  —  A  welcome  order — An- 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

other  disappointment  —  How  Henry  bore  it  — Story  of  the 
tornado — A  stage-coach  blown  over — Freaks  of  the  wind  — 
Firm  buildings — A  song  —  Learning  it — Henry's  pictures  — 
The  top  in  rhyme — A  story — An  abrupt  ending — Willie's  talk 
about  sending  Henry  to  the  "  Boy-Tamer  " — A  call  from  Jessie 
—  Her  gratification— Mrs.  Allen's  return,  ........  130 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

SABBATH      LESSONS. 

The  miniature  —  Sad  Associations — A  life  history — Melancholy 
thoughts  —  Going  to  church — The  sermon — The  universal  bur- 
den—  Laughing  it  away  —  Moping  over  it  —  Running  away 
from  it — The  man  who  was  haunted  by  a  goblin — One  only 
true  remedy  for  sorrow  —  How  to  cast  our  burdens  on  the  Lord 
—  The  Sabbath  School  —  The  lesson  —  Why  prayer  is  a  duty  — 
God  requires  it  —  Our  dependence  upon  Him — Not  to  pray  is 
unnatural  —  Our  need  of  forgiveness — The  boy  who  was  too 
old  to  pray — A  talk  with  him — His  great  mistake — A  ridic- 
ulous excuse — The  climax  of  meanness  —  Conscience  prompts 
us  to  pray — Prayer  a  natural  and  universal  instinct  —  Prayer 
of  infidels — Prayer  brings  blessings — Its  happy  influence  on 
our  hearts — Good  men  have  always  been  praying  men — Ex- 
amples from  history — Recapitulation — Jessie's  eighth  argu- 
ment for  prayer  —  Evening  devotions, 149 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RAINY-DAT     DIVERSIONS. 

The  equinoctial  storm  —  An  argument  postponed  —  Distribution 
of  work— An  afternoon  of  leisure— Nothing  to  do  — Andrew 


XII  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Airpump  and  his  comrades — An  unceremonious  check  —  Allit- 
eration —  Univocalic  verses — Task  verses  — Thread-paper  poetry 

—  How  to  write  it — A  specimen  —  Cento  verses — Pith-tumblers 

—  The  Grand  Mufti — The  sleepy  Brahmin —  Balancing  a  coin 
on  a  needle — The  trick  explained  —  Ronald's  experiment  — 
The  Moslem  oracle — Its  five  responses  —  Kate's  cento  poem  — 
How  she  found  the  lines  —  Contents  of  the  Wreath — Arith- 
metical puzzles  and  answers, •   •  .<  169 


CHAPTER    X. 

ALL     FOOLS'     DAT. 

The  boys'  chamber — Early  and  late  rising  —  Ronald's  trick  —  Otis 
enjoys  a  long  nap  —  The  clean  plate  —  Suspicions  allayed  — 
More  tricks — Imaginary  chalk — The  railroad  whistle — Easter 
—  Easter  eggs — Trial  of  strength  —  Another  trial — The  soft 
egg — The  pitched  seat — Otis  missed  at  school  —  Inquiries — 
Aunt  Fanny's  discovery — Vexation — Otis  at  school — Inter- 
view with  Ronald — A  talk  about  April-fooling — Difference 
of  opinion — A  court  proposed — A  family  custom  —  How  the 
court  managed  business — The  trial  —  The  prosecuting  Attor- 
ney's speech— The  complaint— The  plea  of  "not  guilty"— The 
first  witness — Amusing-  cross-examination — Other  witnesses — 
The  prisoner's  speech — A  question  arises — The  judge's  decision 
— The  prisoner's  admission — His  argument  and  appeal — The 
prosecuting  attorney's  closing  plea  —  An  interruption  —  Can 
you  tell  a  lie  to  a  hen? — Conclusion  of  the  argument — The 
charge — The  verdict — The  sentence — Its  execution  .  .  .  .185 


CONTENTS.  XIII 

CHAPTER   XI. 

SC  HOLAR8. 

PAGB 

Good  spelling— A  spelling  match— Choosing  sides— Evils  at- 
tending spelling  matches — An  incident — Jessie  blamed  for  an 
act  of  kindness  —Another  incident —The  last  of  choosing  sides 
—Jessie's  rank  in  school— Disadvantages  — Secret  of  her  suc- 
cess — G  ood  and  poor  memories  — Ahby 's  memory  —  Lord  Adol- 
plius  D'Orsay — The  list  of  irregular  verbs — Saying  over  les- 
s->>ns  before  sleep — A  contrast — The  good  and  the  poor  scholar 

—  Concentrating  the  mind  —  Luther's  testimony — Anecdote  of 
St.  Bernard  —  Power  of  early  culture  and  discipline  — Why  Jes- 
sie and  Abby  associated  —  Novel  reading — Its  effects  on  Abby 

—  Objections  to  it— Jessie  proof  against  the  temptation,  .    .     209 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A     FEW     BUSINESS     MATTERS. 

Driving  a  bargain  —  Beating  down  the  price  —  Jessie's  rnle,  in 
trading  —  Mrs.  Page's  practice — How  Jessie  got  her  new  dress 
so  cheap — Shillings  and  pence — Was  Jessie  to  blame?  —  Sell- 
ing for  less  than  cost  —  Motives  for  doing  so  —  Meanness — Get- 
ting out  of  debt — An  unexpected  application  of  good  advice 
—  Eonald's  debt — The  lost  Reader  —  Plans  frustrated  —  Dun- 
ning— An  arrangement  effected — The  note  of  hand  —  Interest 
— The  receipt — Negotiating  the  note — A  good  rule  —  Keeping 
account  of  expenses  —  Jessie's  poverty  —  Longings  —  Uncle 
Morrison  —  His  proposal  to  ad  opt  Jessie — Jessie's  perplexity — 
Her  uncle's  tavern  —  His  character — His  wife — The  decision  — 
Surprise  —  Further  proposals — Jessie  firm  —  A  wise  choice,  .  .  222 

2 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE      NEW      GAME. 

PAGE 

Family  portraits  in  the  Home  Wreath  — A  startling  announce- 
'  ment— Portrait  of  the  sociable  contributor— Portrait  of  the 
high-minded  contributor  —  Ronald's  literary  enterprise — A 
new  pleasure  heralded  —  Directions  for  playing  the  game  — 
Transformations  —  Literary  patchwork  —  Literary  puzzle  — 
PETEB  CODDLE'S  TJIIP  TO  NEW  YORK—  Setting  out  on  the  jour-  ^ 
ney —  Peter's  sudden  return  —  State  of  excitement — Conjectures 
— Peter's  own  story — His  departure  from  home  —  A  smash-up 
— The  ruins — The  railroad  depot  —  Riding  in  the  cars — Curi- 
ous sights  —  Quizzed  by  a  dandy  —  Returning  the  compliment 
— the  dandy  in  a  rage — A  long  nap  —  Unceremonious  awaking 
—  Peter  in  New  York  —  Incidents  in  the  depot — The  music — 
Peter  accosted  by  a  stranger  —  Disinterested  benevolence — The 
boarding-house — Private  grief — The  nice  little  room  —  Some- 
thing to  drink — The  pictures — Queer  feelings — The  dream  — 
The  awaking-  —  Unpleasant  discoveries  —  Inquiries  —  Peter's 
eyes  opened — He  is  overwhelmed — A  walk  out — A  free  ticket 
forborne— His  safe  arrival  —  Settling  down  for  life— List  of 
phrases  to  supply  the  blanks, 236 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JUST      OUT      OF     JAIL. 

Sam's  sentence  —  Changes  during  his  imprisonment  —  Unan- 
swered letters  —  The  note  to  Jessie— The  meeting  —  Sam's  ap- 
pearance—  His  refusal  to  see  any  one  —  "Why  he  came  to  see 


CONTENTS.  XV 

• 

PAGE 

Jessie  —  His  selfish  purpose  thwarted  —  Jessie's  appeal  — The 
promise — A  call  at  Mr.  Allen's — An  early  morning  walk — The 
package  for  Sam  —  Henry's  burden — A  talk  about  Mrs.  Allen 
— Henry  informed  of  Sam's  visit — The  graveyard — The  two 
hillocks— Setting  out  the  trees  — Sam's  non-appearance— Dis- 
appointment,   260 


CHAPTER   XV. 

SHOW     AND     SUBSTANCE. 

How  Charlie  Doane  made  money  —  Maple  sugar — Picking  greens 
—  Learning  to  be  a  miser —  Mr.  Doane  and  the  widow's  cow — 
Free  remarks — Marcus  justifies  himself — Ronald  wants  a  new- 
fashioned  cap  —  Oscar  unburdens  his  mind — What  the  girls 
talk  about —  Jessie's  defence  —  Oscar  renews  the  assault — Kate 
enters  the  ring  —  Her  explanation — Her  good  nature  for  once 
overpowered — Oscar  beats  a  retreat — Ronald  and  Otis  come  to 
the  rescue — A  telling  shot  from  Kate  —  The  debate  arrested  — 
Mrs.  Page  awards  justice  impartially  —  Evils  and  folly  of  think- 
ing too  much  of  dress — The  fault  not  quite  universal  —  Oscar 
takes  back  a  portion  of  his  charge — Aunt  Fanny's  testimony  — 
Little  souls — A  dwarfed  mini — Testimony  of  foreign  travel- 
lers— A  good  rule  about  dress  —  An  inspired  command  —  Fail- 
ure of  Abby's  father  —  Telegraph  despatch — Free  comments  — 
Sympathy— Abby  at  school— An^unexpected  placidity,  and  a 
sudden  explosion — First  effect  of  the  intelligence  upon  Abby — 
A  secret  struggle — Shutting  herself  out  from  sympathy  —  One 
Friend  in  the  time  of  need  —  Lessons  and  consolations — How 
Abby  received  Jessie's  kind  oflices, 271 


XVI  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

GETTING     UP     IN     THE    WORLD. 

PAGE 

Reviewing  studies  —  The  scholar's  countersign — Step  by  step  — 
How  men  become  eminent — The  idea,  if  not  the  language  — 
Person's  testimony — A  French  grenadier  on  the  top  of  the  pyr- 
amid — A  lesson  from  a  picture  —  What  man  has  done,  man  may 
do — Kate's  promotion — "Why  Ronald  failed  —  Better  late  than 
never — The  Grade  of  Honor — A  substitute  for  prizes — The  two 
honorary  grades — Ceremony  of  admission  to  the  Grade  of  Fi- 
delity —  Popularity  of  the  Grade  —  Exclusion  frpm  it— Diffi- 
culty of  getting  into  the  Grade  of  Honor — Admission  ceremo- 
nies—Privileges  of  members— Abby  called  home,  286 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

TIDINGS . 

Unpleasant  news  — Sam  injured  in  a  fight— Anxiety —The  letter 
of  inquiry — The  reply — Visit  to  Slim — His  injuries  —  His  ac- 
count of  the  fight  — Mr.  Preston's  kindness  —  Oscar's  proposed 
visit  home— Jerry  Preston's  return  from  sea— A  present  from 
Ralph  to  Ronald — Jessie  writes  to  Sam — Oscar  and  Jerry  — 
Their  relations  to  one  another  —  Capt.  Page  —  Possibility  of  his 
survival  —  Ronald's  present  —  Cage  and  bird  —  Principle  on 
which  the  toy  is  constructed  —  Other  applications  of  the  prin- 
ciple—  Oscar's  trip  to  Boston  —  An  unexpected  pleasure,  .  .  .301 


CONTENTS.  XVIJ 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE     SURPRISE     PARTT. 

PAQB 

Exhibition  day — Jessie  invited  out  to  tea — The  return  home — A 
surprise — The  academy  party — The  collation  —  Marcus  makes 
a  speech — The  box — Its  contents — The  nest  of  boxes,  and  their 
mottoes  —  Jessie's  curiosity  excited  —  The  letter  —  The  port- 
monnaie  and  its  contents — A  new  surprise — Jessie's  acknowl- 
edgment— The  Hymn  —  Conclusion 310 

2» 


S^KTRAiT  ov  JESSIE, FBONTISPIECE 

VIGNETTE, TTTLB  PAGE 

WASHINGTON  AND  HIS  HOME, 86 

THE  SNOW-HOUSE, 69 

ESQUIMAUX  SNOW-HUTS, 62 

GALLERY  OP  LITEBABY  POBTBAITS  (twenty-four  figures),  89, 90 

SUGAB  BOILING, 124 

THE  MINIATUEE, 149 

GRAND  MUFTI  AND  SLEEPY  BRAHMIN  (two  figures),    .       .  176 

THE  BALANCED  COIN,        .                    .....  177 

MILD  PUNISHMENT, 208 

PORTRAIT  OF  THE  SOCIABLE  CONTRIBUTOR,        .       .       .  287 

PORTRAIT  OF  THE  HIGH-MINDED  CONTRIBUTOR,    .      .      .  238 

THE  INTEBVIEW, 262 

TIP-TOP, 290 

flow  TO  CAGE  A  BIRD, 807 

THE  PICTURE  ON  THE  Box, 314 


JESSIE. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE    NEW    HOME.  * 

TT  was  on  a  dull  and  cold  morning  in  February,  that 
Jessie  Hapley,  a  girl  between  fourteen  and  fifteen 
years  old,  stood  before  a  window  in  the  farm-house 
of  Mrs.  Page,  watching  a  couple  of  boys  who  were 
drawing  a  sled  on  which  was  lashed  a  trunk.  The 
sled  dragged  heavily  through  the  new-fallen  snow,  and 
when  yet  some  distance  off,  the  cord  by  which  it  was 
drawn  suddenly  snapped  asunder.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments' delay,  the  boys  took  a  position  behind  their 
load,  and  pushed  it  along  to  its  destination,  without 
meeting  with  any  further  obstacles. 


20  THE  TRUNK'S  CONTENTS. 

"Where  will  you  have  it,  Jessie  —  up  in  your 
chamber?"  inquired  the  oldest  boy,  as  he  and  his 
companion  landed  the  trunk  in  the  entry. 

"Yes,  you  may  carry  it  up  stairs,  if  you  please," 
replied  Jessie. 

"  I  hope  you  have  got  something  good  in  that  trunk, 
Jessie,  —  it's  heavy  enough,  if  that's  all,"  said  the 
younger  boy,  when  they  came  down  from  the  cham- 
ber. 

"  Is  it  heavy  ?  "  inquired  Jessie.  u  Well,  I  do  n't 
wonder  —  it  contains  all  my  gold,  except  this  pin  and 
ring,  and  you  know  gold  is  heavy." 

"Is  that  it?"  continued  the  boy,  whose  name  was 
Ronald.  "  I  did  n't  know  but  you  had  filled  it  with 
stones,  to  make  HS  think  you  had  got  something  valu- 
able. They  say  rogues  play  that  game  sometimes, 
when  they  put  up  at  hotels.  But  about  that  gold; 
how  much  is  there  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell  you  exactly  how  much  there  is, 
but  I  will  show  it  to  you  some  tune,  if  you  with  to  see 
it,"  replied  Jessie. 

"  Is  it  visible  to  the  naked  eye  ?  "  inquired  the  boy, 
with  a  roguish  look. 


THEHAPLEYS.  21 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  replied  Jessie.  "  You  can  see  it 
plain  enough,  but  that  is  the  best  you  can  say  about 
it." 

This  was  an  enigma  which  Ronald  could  not  solve, 
and  it  was  not  until  Jessie  exhibited  to  him  her  por- 
tion of  the  precious  metal,  displayed  upon  the  covers 
and  edges  of  several  books,  that  he  comprehended  the 
mystery. 

The  fact  was,  whatever  else  might  have  been  Jes- 
sie's possessions,  at  this  tune,  she  was  far  from  being 
rich  in  gold  and  silver,  or  any  of  the  paper  represent- 
atives of  those  metals.  Within  a  period  of  about  two 
months,  a  fearful  train  of  calamities  had  overwhelmed 
the  family  to  which  she  belonged.  The  oldest  son, 
Samuel,  a  youth  of  sixteen,  had  committed  a  burglary 
in  a  neighboring  town,  for  which  he  was  now  serving 
a  sentence  in  prison.  The  youngest  child,  an  interest- 
,  ing  and  lovely  boy  of  nine,  had  sickened  and  died,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year.  The  father,  who  for  many 
years  had  been  a  victim  of  intemperate  habits,  sought 
to  drown  his  sorrows  by  still  deeper  draughts  at  the 
fountain  of  woe  and  death,  and  came  to  a  dreadful 
end,  a  few  weeks  after  his  boy  was  laid  in  his  frozen 


22  PLANS. 

grave.  Mr.  Hapley's  farm  and  other  property,  on 
which  there  were  heavy  mortgages,  were  taken  to  pay 
his  debts,  and  the  widow  and  children  were  left  home- 
less and  moneyless.* 

Jessie,  and  her  brother  Henry,  a  lad  of  thirteen, 
were  the  only  children  now  living  with  their  mother. 
A  home  was  soon  found  for  Henry,  in  the  village, 
where  he  was  to  work  for  his  board  and  clothes.  Mrs. 
Hapley,  whose  health  was  poor,  was'  invited  to  return 
to  the  home  of  her  childhood,  in  another  town,  where 
her  parents  were  still  living.  Jessie  was  at  that  time 
attending  the  village  academy,  with  a  view  of  fitting 
herself  for  the  profession  of  teaching.  With  no  slight 
struggle,  'she  relinquished  this  cherished  purpose  of 
her  heart,  and,  as  the  readiest  way  of  supporting  her- 
self and  aiding  her  mother,  volunteered  to  work  in  a 
factory.  But  in  this  hour  of  extremity,  a  new  door 
was  opened  to  her.  Mrs.  Page  and  her  family,  who 
were  next  neighbors  to  the  Hapleys,  were  so  much 
interested  in  the  welfare  of  Jessie,  that  they  offered 
her  a  home  for  a  season,  on  conditions  that  she  could 

*  These  events  are  more  fully  related  in  the  fifth  volume  of 
this  series,  entitled,  "Marcus;  or  the  Boy-Tamer." 


THENEWHOME.  23 

not  well  refuse.  Her  services  in  the  family  were  to 
be  considered  an  equivalent  for  her  board,  but  she  was 
to  have  the  privilege  of  attending  the  academy.  Her 
mother  was  to  provide  her  with  clothes,  and  there  was 
a  prospect  that  she  would  be  able  to  offset  her  tuition 
bills,  by  rendering  some  assistance  to  the  lower  classes. 
It  was  thought  that  by  this  arrangement  she  would  be 
enabled  to  enter  upon  her  chosen  work  in  less  than  a 
year. 

On  the  morning  with  which  our  story  opens,  Mrs. 
Hapley  had  bidden  her  daughter  farewell,  and  started 
for  the  home  of  her  parents.  It  was  not  without  a 
strange  sinking  of  heart,  and  eyes  blurred  with  tears, 
that  Jessie  took  leave— of  her  mother  and  her  old 
home ;  but  nothing  of  this  was  visible  on  her*  counte- 
nance, now.  She  was  apparently  as  calm  and  cheer- 
ful as  any  of  those  around  her. 

The  family  of  which  Jessie  had  now  become  an 
inmate,  comprised  the  following  named  persons :  Mrs. 
Page,  who  was  the  widow  of  a  sea-captain ;  her  sister, 
Miss  Fanny  Lee,  usually  called  Aunt  Fanny ;  Mar- 
cus, Mrs.  Page's  son,  a  young  man  hi  his  nineteenth 
year,  who  had  just  served  his  first  term  as  assistant 


24  T  H  E     F  L  A  G  . 

teacher  in  the  academy,  of  which  he  was  a  graduate ; 
Ronald,  an  adopted  son  of  Mrs.  Page,  about  twelve 
years  old ;  and  Oscar  Preston,  a  nephew  of  Mrs.  Page, 
in  his  sixteenth  year,  who  came  to  live  with  the  family 
the  previous  fall.  They  lived  upon  a  small  farm,  in 
one  of  the  pleasant  hill  towns  of  Vermont,  which  we 
shall  call  Highburg. 

Jessie  at  once  began  to  busy  herself  with  various 
household  duties,  taking  hold  almost  as  handily  as 
though  she  had  been  at  home.  Knowing  that  con- 
stant occupation  is  a  great  security  against  desponding 
thoughts,  Mrs.  Page  was  careful  to  provide  her  with 
something  to  employ  her  time.  It  was  "  washing 
day,"  and  of  course  there  was  no  lack  of  work.  In 
the  course  of  the  forenoon,  Ronald  came  in,  with  his 
arms  full  of  rope  and  bunting,  and  exclaimed : 

"There,  mother,  I've  got  my  flag,  at  last.  But 
just  see  how  dirty  it  is.  Can't  you  wash  it,  right  off, 
so  I  can  have  it  all  bright  and  clean  for  to-morrow?" 

"Our  washing  is  done,  and  on  the  line,  and  the 
suds  are  thrown  away ;  so  you  had  better  let  it  be  till 
next  Monday,"  replied  Mrs.  Page. 

"  But  who  wants  to  hang  up  such  a  dirty  thing  as 


PATRIOTIC     PREPARATIONS.  25 

that  on  "Washington's  birth-day?"  continued  Ronald. 
"  We  've  got  our  staff  almost  ready,  and  we  want  to 
raise  our  flag  to-morrow  morning ;  but  it 's  all  soiled, 
and  dingy  —  and  here 's  a  big  rip  in  it,  too.  Why, 
mother,  haven't  you  got  any  patriotism  at  all?  I 
should  think  you  'd  consider  it  an  honor  to  wash  the 
stains  out  of  your  country's  flag." 

Mrs.  Page  smiled  at  this  sally,  but  did  not  accede 
to  Ronald's  request. 

"Couldn't  I  wash  it  out  for  him,  Mrs.  Page?"  in- 
quired Jessie. 

"  You  can,  if  you  choose  to,"  was  the  reply. 

"That's  right,  Jessie  —  you  ought  to  have  three 
cheers  for  your  patriotism,  and  I'll  give  'em  to  you 
to-morrow,  when  I  hoist  the  flag,"  said  Ronald,  as 
Jessie  commenced  preparations  for  the  work. 

Ronald  detached  the  flag  from  the  rope,  and  then 
went  out  to  the  barn  to  see  how  Oscar  was  getting 
on  with  the  pole.  He  found  it  nearly  ready  for  its 
place,  although  only  the  day  before  it  was  a  young 
tree  in  the  forest.  As  it  was  to  be  fastened  to  the 
gable  of  the  barn,  it  was  not  very  large,  but  was  tall, 
straight,  and  rounded  in  a  smooth  and  uniform  man- 
3 


26  THE    FLAG     CRITICISED. 

ner.  Oscar  was  now  inserting  into  the  top  of  it  a 
small  pulley  or  grooved  wheel  for  the  line  to  run  over. 
Ronald,  meanwhile,  went  to  work  upon  the  cap  that 
was  to  surmount  the  whole,  which  he  made  out  of  a 
wooden  knob  that  belonged  to  an  old  bureau. 

Before  they  had  finished  the  staff,  Jessie  had 
•washed  the  flag,  and  hung  it  upon  the  line.  It  was 
much  improved  in  appearance.  Soon  after  Marcus 
came  along,  and  having  examined  the  flag  a  minute 
or  two,  he  entered  the  barn,  saying : 

"  Ronald,  I  do  n't  think  you  made  much  of  a  bar- 
gain when  you  bought  that  flag." 

"You  don't?  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  it?" 
inquired  Ronfdd. 

"  Oh,  it 's  an  old  thing,  and  it  was  n't  made  prop- 
erly in  the  first  place,  either,"  replied  Marcus. 

"  I  do  n't  care,  so  long  as  it 's  a  flag,"  said  Ronald. 
"  I  '11  get  that  torn  place  mended,  and  then  I  guess  it 
will  do." 

"  I  think  it  is  altogether  too  large  for  your  staff," 
continued  Marcus. 

"  I  do  n't  think  so,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  Besides,  it  strikes  me  it  is  not  in  good  proportion," 
added  Marcus. 


ITS    FAULTS.  27 

"I  don't  care  for  that,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  And  it  has  got  only  twenty-nine  stars,  when  there 
ought  to  be  thirty-two,"  *  continued  Marcus. 

"Well,  nobody  would  have  noticed  that  if  you 
hadn't  told  us,"  added  Ronald,  somewhat  vexed  at 
these  free  criticisms  of  his  flag. 

"  One  star  for  every  State  in  the  Union,  is  the  rule 
—  I  should  n't  suppose  such  a  patriotic  boy  as  you 
would  ignore  three  of  the  States  in  the  confederacy," 
added  Marcus. 

Ronald  felt  the  force  of  these  criticisms  more  than 
he  was  willing  to  admit.  The  purchase  of  the  flag 
was  his  own  individual  enterprise.  He  gave  in  ex- 
change for  it  sundry  articles  of  personal  property,  and 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  made  a  good  trade.  And 
so,  in  fact,  he  had,  for  flags  cost  more  than  Marcus 
imagined,  and  Ronald's,  though  somewhat  dilapidated, 
was  worth  all  that  he  gave  for  it.  But  Ronald  did 
not  feel  quite  at  ease  about  his  bargain,  after  what 


*  Thirty-two  is  the  number  at  the  time  this  is  written,  but 
there  is  a  prospect  of  an  early  increase  of  our  family  of  States, 
which  happy  event  will  of  course  add  to  the  ever-enlarging 
galaxy  of  stars  on  our  national  banner. 


28  ALTERATIONS. 

Marcus  had  said.  He  soon  after  had  a  conference 
with  Jessie,  and  the  result  was  apparent  in  the  eve- 
ning, when  that  young  lady  undertook  the  task  of 
making  the  flag  over  new. 

Jessie  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  where  to  begin  upon 
the  novel  job  she  had  undertaken,  and  neither  Ronald 
nor  any  of  the  family  could  give  her  much  light  upon 
the  subject.  Marcus  soon  came  in,  however,  and  his 
advice  was  sought. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  it  ?  "  was  his  first 
inquiry. 

"  I  want  to  make  it  smaller,  for  one  thing  —  you 
said  it  was  too  large,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  Well,"  said  Marcus,  surveying  the  flag  quite 
calmly,  as  it  lay  spread  out  upon  the  floor,  "I'm 
afraid  Jessie  wont  get  much  sleep  to-night,  if  you 
intend  to  have  it  ready  to  hoist  in  the  morning.  She 
will  have  to  rip  the  stripes  apart,  and  make  them  all 
narrower ;  and  then  the  blue  field  and  the  stars  will 
be  too  large,  and  they  must  all  be  altered ;  but  I  do  n't 
see  exactly  how  that  is  to  be  done,  for  you  can't  very 
well  make  the  holes  for  the  stars  any  smaller." 

"  But  why  can't  we  take  off  one  or  two  stripes,  and 


HOW    TO     MAKE     A     FLAG.  29 

cul  a  piece  off  the  length,  and  let  it  go  so?"  inquired 
Jessie. 

"  There  is  one  slight  objection  to  that, — it  wouldn't 
be  an  American  flag,"  replied  Marcus. 

""Well,  I -do  n't  pretend  to  know  much  about  the 
science  of  flags,"  said  Jessie,  smiling. 

"  You  must  have  just  thirteen  stripes  and  thirty-two 
stars  ;  did  n't  you  know  that  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  The  outside  stripes  must  be  red,"  continued  Mar- 
cus. "  That  gives  us  seven  red  and  six  white  stripes. 
The  field  for  the  stars  should  be  square,  and  of  just 
the  width  of  the  first  seven  stripes." 

"  This  is  right,  then,  as  it  is,  and  I  do  n't  see  how 
we  can  make  it  any  smaller  without  spoiling  it,"  said 
Jessie.  %^^. 

"  I  think  it  will  bear  shortening  a  little,"  added 
Marcus,  "  and  that  will  make  it  look  smaller,  and  give 
it  better  proportions,  too.  It  should  be  just  one  half 
longer  than  it  is  broad.  For  instance,  if  it  is  four 
feet  broad,  it  should  be  six  feet  long.  Let  us  measure 
it,  and  see  how  it  is." 

The  flag  was  found  to  be  too  long,  as  Marcus  sus- 
pected. So  Jessie  cut  off  the  superfluous  part, 
3* 


30  A     SURPRISE. 

mended  the  rents,  added  three  new  stars  to  the  field, 
and  it  was  pronounced  fit  for  service.  Before  sunrise, 
the  next  morning,  it  was  run  up  to  the  top  of  the  staff 
on  the  barn,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  boys.  Soon  after, 
the  family  were  startled  by  a  loud  report  from  behind 
the  barn.  All  ran  to  ascertain  the  cause,  and  it  was 
found  to  proceed  from  a  small  cannon  which  Ronald 
had  procured,  in  order  to  add  eclat  (which  in  this  case 
means  noise)  to  his  celebration  of  Washington's  birth- 
day. He  had  kept  this  little  secret  entirely  to  himself, 
intending  to  surprise  the  family  with  this  new  proof 
of  his  patriotism.  But  the  surprise  did  not  prove 
quite  so  pleasant  as  he  anticipated ;  for  Marcus 
quickly  took  possession  of  the  cannon  and  ammuni- 
tion, and  the  young  patriot  found  himself  so  severely 
condemned  by  all  the  family  for  playing  with  powder 
without  leave,  that  he  burst  into  tears,  and  betook 
himself  for  a  while  to  the  uncensuring  society  of  the 
cows  in  the  barn.  So  the  bright  sun  of  his  hopes 
went  into  a  cloud  before  breakfast ! 

It  was  noticed  by  all  that  Jessie  did  not  eat  much 
at  the  table  that  morning,  and  she  did  not  appear  to 
be  in  her^usual  good  spirits.  Ronald,  too,  was  uncom« 


MORE    TEARS.  31 

mouly  sober,  and  altogether  it  did  not  seem  much  like 
a  holiday.  The  flag,  however,  which  was  visible  for  a 
considerable  distance,  soon  drew  together  several  of 
the  boys  and  girls  of  the  neighborhood,  and  Ronald's 
lengthened  countenance  gradually  assumed  its  wonted 
form.  Among  the  visitors  was  Henry,  Jessie's  broth- 
er, who,  after  a  while,  inquired  for  his  sister.  Ronald 
went  in  search  of  her,  but  no  one  could  tell  him  where 
she  was.  At  length,  having  looked  everywhere  else, 
he  ran  up  stairs,  and  thoughtlessly  opened  her  cham- 
ber door,  without  asking  permission.  Jessie  was 
there,  and  as  the  door  opened,  she  closed  a  book  that 
she  held,  with  a  startled  look,  and  Ronald  saw  very 
plainly  that  she  had  been  weeping,  although  she 
quickly  turned  her  face  away.  Frightened  at  the 
impropriety  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  in  thus  in- 
truding upon  her  privacy,  he  made  a  ludicrous  attempt 
at  apology.  '  *  .  "*• 

"I  —  I  did  n't  know  you  were  here,"  he  said ;  " but 
I  Ve  been  hunting  for  you  all  over  the  house.  Henry 
is  down  stairs,  and  wants  to  see  you." 

"  You  may  ask  him  to  come  up  here,"  replied  Jes- 
sie, without  turning  her  face  towards  Rom 


32  HOMESICKNESS. 

Henry  went  up  to  Jessie's  room,  and  remained  with 
her  some  time.  When  he  came  out,  he,  too,  seemed 
more  sober  and  silent  than  usual,  and  Ronald  half 
suspected,  from  his  looks,  that  he  had  been  crying. 
And  so  he  had.  The  fact  was,  both  he  and  his  sister 
were  suffering  from  that  distressing  malady  —  home* 
sickness.  It  seems  strange  that  one  who  has  ex- 
changed a  poor  home  for  a  better  one,  should  pine 
after  what  he  has  relinquished ;  but  so  it  is.  We 
cannot  separate  ourselves  from  the  friends  with  whom 
we  have  always  lived,  and  the  associations  and  haunts 
with  which  we  have  for  years  been  familiar,  without 
suffering  more  or  less  from  homesickness,  no  matter 
into  how  excellent  hands  we  may  have  fallen.  And 
this  feeling  is  sometimes  very  prolonged  and  distress- 
ing, especially  with  those  who  are  exiled  from  their 
native  land.  A  few  years  ago,  a  German  emigrant 
in  Boston  became  insane  from  homesickness,  and 
bought  a  little  boat,  called  a  dory,  which  he  fitted  up 
in  a  peculiar  manner,  with  oars,  sails,  a  canvas  cover- 
ing, and  provisions  for  a  fortnight's  subsistence.  He 
intended  to  put  to  sea  in  this  frail  skiff,  hoping,  as  he 
said,  to  reach  his  fatherland  in  twenty-two  days. 


A    PROPOSAL.  33 

When  asked  how  he  should  supply  himself  with  food, 
after  his  stock  was  exhausted,  he  said  he  had  a  little 
money  to  buy  more.  Perhaps  he  thought  he  should 
find  a  half-way  house  on  the  great  deep,  or  meet  a 
baker's  or  butcher's  cart,  on  the  voyage. 

Marcus  had  been  sitting  for  an  hour  or  more  before 
a  small  portable  desk — a  parting  gift  from  his  late 
pupils — which  lay  open  upon  the  table  in  the  sitting- 
room,  with  papers  and  books  scattered  around  it.  He 
had  been  engaged  in  studying  a  Greek  lesson ;  for  he 
intended  at  some  future  day  to  enter  college  in  an 
advanced  class,  and  with  this  view  was  continuing  his 
studies.  He  was  now  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  with 
his  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  the  ceiling,  while  his 
thoughts  were  busily  engaged  in  trying  to  devise  some 
way  to  relieve  the  melancholy  of  Jessie,  and  to  dispel 
the  shadows  which  from  sympathy  seemed  to  be  steal- 
in  <*  over  other  members  of  the  family.  After  i  main 
ing  in  this  position  about  ten  minntes,  he  stepped  into 
the  kitchen,  and  held  a  short  consultation  with  his 
mother  and  his  aunt.  He  then  went  out  to  the  wood- 
shed, where  Oscar  and  Ronald  were  at  work,  and 

, 
accosted  theru  with  — 


34  PREPARATIONS. 

"  Boys,  what  do  you  say  to  getting  up  a  little  cele- 
bration of  "Washington's  birth-day,  this  evening  ?  " 

"Good!  First-rate-!"  cried  the  impetuous  Ronald, 
without  giving  Oscar  a  chance  to  reply.  "  What  kind 
of  a  celebration  shall  we  have  ?  If  I  were  you,  I M 
have  the  whole  house  illuminated,  or  else  I  'd  build  a 
great  bonfire  on  the  hill,  that  will  show  off  all  over 
town  —  wouldn't  that  be  grand,  Oscar?" 

"  That  is  n't  exactly  the  kind  of  a  celebration  that 
I  was  thinking  of,"  said  Marcus.  "  What  I  propose 
is,  to  invite  in  a  few  of  our  young  acquaintances,  and 
Lave  an  oration,  and  some  appropriate  music,  and 
perhaps  a  tableau  or  two.  How  does  that  strike  you, 
Oscar?" 

"  I  think  it 's  a  good  idea ;  but  who  can  get  an 
oration  ready,  in  so  little  tune?"  inquired  Oscar. 

"  O,  we  can  manage  that  —  the  oration  will  be  the 
easiest  part  to  arrange,"  replied  Marcus. 

"  But  why  could  n't  we  have  a  bonfire,  too  ?  —  I  '11 
take  the  whole  care  of  it,"  interposed  Ronald,  who 
just  now  thought  more  of  material  than  mental  illu- 
mination. 

*'  I  am  afraid  that  might  draw  together  more  com- 


THE    COMMITTEE.  33 

pany  than  we  want,"  replied  Marcus,  "  and  so  inter- 
fere with  our  indoor  arrangements.  I  think  you  had 
better  give  up  that  idea." 

Ronald  readily  assented  to  this,  and  Marcus  ap- 
pointed him  and  Oscar  a  "committee  of  arrange- 
ments," to  invite  guests,  and  make  other  preparations 
for  the  festival,  giving  them  such  instructions  as  he 
deemed  necessary.  He  afterwards  added  Jessie  to 
this  committee,  who  entered  into  the  plan  with  much 
interest.  Marcus  then  returned  to  his  studies,  leaving 
the  affair  almost  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  com- 
mittee. 

The  committee  at  once  began  to  discuss  the  order 
of  arrangements,  and  the  leading  features  of  the  cele- 
bration were  soon  decided  upon.  The  work  of  pre- 
paration was  then  divided  among  the  committee,  a 
particular  line  of  duties  being  assigned  to  each  mem- 
ber. As  the  front  parlor,  usually  called  "the  best 
room,"  was  the  largest  apartment,  it  was  selected  as 
the  place  of  entertainment,  and  Jessie  at  once  com- 
menced preparing  it  for  the  occasion.  She  removed 
to  this  room  an  engraved  portrait  of  Washington, 
which  h'ung  in  one  of  the  chambers,  and  then  de- 


36 


THE    PICTURES. 


spatched  Ronald  to  the  woods  for  some  evergreens, 

with  which  to  adorn  its 
old  black  frame.  She 
also  found  an  old  en- 
graving of  the  Washing- 
ton mansion  at  Mount 
Vernon,  among  a  large 
collection  of  prints  in 
Miss  Lee's  closet,  which 
she  had  liberty  to  over- 
haul. When  Ronald  re- 
turned, she  made  a  pret- 
ty frame  of  ever-green 
for  this,  and  hung  it  by 
the  side  of  the  portrait 
A  small  work  table,  in- 
tended to  serve  as  the 
orator's  desk,  was  placed 
directly  in  front  of  these 
pictures,  so  that  one  would  appear  on  either  side  of 
him.  The  wall  back  of  the  table  was  further  orna- 
mented by  a  large  star  in  evergreen,  and  several 
wreaths  and  festoons  were  displayed  in  other  parts  of 
the  room. 


THE     PROGRAM  ME.  37 

'  Jessie  seemed  in  better  spirits  at  noon^  and  talked 
with  much  interest  of  the  anticipated  celebration. 
The  committee  continued  their  labors  in  the  afternoon, 
and  apparently  had  about  as  much  on  their  hands  as 
they  could  conveniently  manage.  This  was  especially 
true  of  Ronald,  who  did  not  seem  content  to  do  less 
than  three  or  four  things  at  once.  Before  sunset, 
however,  the  business  was  finished ;  and  when  Marcus 
came  home,  he  found  on  his  desk  the  following  paper, 
in  the  handwriting  of  Jessie,  with  the  exception  of  one 
line  —  the  last  —  which  was  evidently  an  interpolation 
by  Ronald :  " 

PROGRAMME 

FOR    THE 

CELEBRATION  OF  WASHINGTON'S  BIRTH-DAT. 

1.  Music — "Washington's  Grand  March" — piano-forte. 

2.  Reading  of  a  sketch  of  Washington's  Life,  by  Jessie  Hapley. 

3.  Music  —  "  Hail  Columbia  "  —  sung  by  the  Company. 

4.  Webster's  Oration  on  Washington,  read  by  Mr.  Marcus  Page. 

5.  Music — "  My  country,  't  is  of  thee  " — sung  by  the  company. 

6.  Tableau. 

7.  Music — "  Yankee  Doodle  "  —  piano-fort. 
&  Going  Home  with  the  Girls. 

Early  in  the  evening  the  company  assembled,  em- 
bracing eight  or  ten  lads  and  misses  from  the  neigh- 
4 


38  THE    EXERCISES. 

borhood,  among  whom  was  Henry  Hapley.  The  old 
parlor  never  looked  more  beautiful,  with  its  generous 
wood-fire  blazing  upon  the  hearth,  its  extra  display  of 
lamps  disposed  around  the  room,  its  decorations  in 
evergreen  and  bunting,  (for  Ronald's  flag  was  hauled 
down  at  sunset,  and  now  figured  as  drapery  around 
the  "orator's  desk,")  and  its  rows  of  smiling  faces 
duly  arranged  in  audience  fashion.  The  programme 
was  carried  out  in  a  style  that  gave  the  utmost  satis- 
faction. One  of  the  guests,  a  young  lady,  furnished 
the  instrumental  portion  of  the  music,  while  all  joined 
in  the  singing.  By  way  of  refreshing  the  memories 
of  the  audience,  Jessie  read  from  a  book  a  brief  sum- 
mary of  the  leading  events  in  "Washington's  life,  con- 
cluding by  reading  a  poem  on  the  same  subject,  from 
a  popular  English  authoress,  (Miss  Eliza  Cook,)  com- 
mencing, 

"  Land  of  the  west!  though  passing  brief 

The  record  of  thine  age, 
Thou  hast  a  name  that  darkens  all 
On  history's  wide  page !  " 

The  oration,  which  was  well  delivered  by  Marcus, 
consisted  of  the  principal  portion  of  Webster's  elo- 


THE    TABLEAU.  39 

quent  address  on  the  centennial  anniversary  of  the 
birth-day  of  Washington.  The  tableau  was  e^ibited 
in  an  adjoining  room,  the  door  being  opened  to, the 
"  audience,"  when  the  figure  was  arranged.  It  was  a 
scene  that  had  been  enacted  at  a  Christmas  party  in 
which  most  of  the  people  of  the  town  participated, 
two  months  previous.  The  figure  represented  was 
"  Liberty,"  which  was  personated  by  a  beautiful  girl, 
arrayed  in  flowing  antique  drapery,  holding  with  one 
hand  a  staff,  on  the  top  of  which  hung  a  liberty  cap, 
and  with  the  other  hand  supporting  a  shield  bearing 
the  United  States  arms.  As  the  company  were 
crowded  around  the  door,  —  which  they  were  not 
allowed  to  pass,  —  gazing  at  the  tableau,  Rover,  a 
handsome  spaniel,  who  had  been  sleeping-  all  the  eve- 
ning under  a  table  in  the  room  devoted  to  "  Liberty," 
now  came  forth  to  see  what  the  stir  was  all  about. 
At  a  sly  signal  from  his  young  master,  Ronald,  he 
saluted  the  goddess  with  one  of  his  loudest  barks, 
at  which  everybody  laughed  except  the  statue-hie 
figure ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  she  moved  the 
muscles  of  her  face  a  trifle,  for  Rover  seemed  sud- 
denly to  recognize  her  and,  wagging  his  shaggy  tail, 


40  SOUND    SLEEPERS. 

he  lay  down  by  her  side,  close  to  the  shield,  as  much 
as  to  say, — 

"Ah,  yes,  I  understand  it,  now.  This  is  Miss 
Liberty,  and  I  am  bound  to  be  her  protector  and 
defender." 

This  unexpected  addition  to  the  tableau  was  re- 
ceived with  a  shout  that  upset  the  gravity  even  of 
Liberty  herself,  and  she  joined  in  the  laugh,  while 
the  piano-forte  struck  up  "  Yankee  Doodle "  in  the 
liveliest  style,  and  the  guests  began  to  hunt  up  their 
hoods  and  caps,  in  anticipation  of  the  grand  finale 
smuggled  into  the  programme  by  Ronald,  who,  by  the 
way,  in  consideration  of  his  tender  years,  was  ex- 
cused from  any  participation  in  that  performance. 

So  ended  the   memorable   twenty-second.     There 

« 
were  half  a  dozen  sound  sleepers  in  the  house,  that 

night,  but  dull  Care  and  the  dolorous  Blues  and 
Dumps  could  find  no  chance  to  lodge  there ! 


CHAPTER  H. 

SOMETHING    ABOUT    DIARIES. 

TESSIE  had  one  secret  that  she  preserved  very 
carefully  from  even  her  most  intimate  friends.  She 
kept  a  "journal,"  or  daily  record  of  her  life.  Not 
that  she  was  ashamed  to  have  this  known,  but  regard- 
ing it  as  a  strictly  private  matter,  she  preferred  to 
keep  it  entirely  to  herself.  She  was  induced  to 
commence  keeping  a  journal  by  some  remarks  made 
'  by  Mr.  Upton,  the  preceptor  of  the  academy,  to  his 
older  scholars,  near  the  close  of  the  previous  year. 
He  recommended  the  practice  of  journalizing  very 
highly,  and  mentioned  quite  a  number  of  benefits  that 
were  usually  derived  from  it,  by  the  young,  the  chief 

of  which  were  these  : 

1.  It  aids  in  acquiring  an  unproved  and  distinctive 

handwriting. 

4* 


42  MAKING    A    BEGINNING. 

2.  It  promotes  ease  and  rapidity  of  composition. 

3.  It  assists  the  young  to  acquire  and  retain  knowl- 
edge. 

4.  It  cultivates  habits  of  thought  and  observation. 

5.  It  encourages  habits  of  system  and  method. 

6.  It  is  often  of  great  value  in  after  life,  when  we 
wish  to  recall  facts,  events,  impressions,  etc.,  of  earlier 
years. 

7.  As  a  history  of  one's  life,  it  must  always  possess 
great  interest. 

Jessie  at  once  procured  a  small  blank  book,  deter- 
mined to  put  the  advice  in  practice  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year.  Supposing  Jliat  every  book  ought  to 
have  a  title-page,  she  set  apart  the  first  ruled  page  of 
her  journal  for  this  purpose,  and  at  sundry  odd  mo- 
ments inscribed  upon  it,  in  the  handsomest  characters 
she  could  make,  a  title  expressive  of  its  object.  Jes- 
sie was  tolerably  expert  with  the  pen,  and  her  best 
efforts  with  this  implement  were  by  no  means  devoid 
of  merit.  But  you  must  not  suppose  that  they  were 
chiefly  remarkable  for  the  fantastic  shapes  of  the  let- 
ters, or  elaborate  shadings,  or  fanciful  and  intricate 
scrawls,  and  other  frippery.  Her  taste  was  rather  for 


THE    TITLE-PAGE. 


43 


the  chaste,  graceful  and  simple,  than  for  the  grotesque 
and  the  tawdry.  To  illustrate  this,  I  will  show  you 
the  title-page  of  her  Journal,  or  rather  a  fac  simile  of 
it,  reduced  in  size,  if  the  printer  can  imitate  it  with 
his  types.  Here  it  is : 


JESSIE   HAPLEY. 


"STrg  to  be  Somebotrj, 


Highburg, 
Ft. 


I  suppose  the  motto  which  Jessie  inscribed  upon 
her  title-page  will  strike  some  minds  as  being  both  too 
ambitious  and  too  indefinite,  to  say  nothing  of  its  in- 
elegance. To  her,  however,  it  had  a  history  and  a 
significance  that  rendered  it  quite  appropriate  for  the 


44  ABBY    LEONARD. 

place.  Its  history  was  as  follows.  There  was  a  girl 
attending  the  academy,  named  Abby  Leonard,  who 
came  from  a  distant  city,  and  whose  parents  were 
reputed  to  be  very  rich.  She  was  fifteen  years  old, 
had  more  and  better  dresses  than  any  other  girl  in 
town,  and  prided'herself  on  her  superior  gentility  and 
refinement.  She  was  a  sad  dunce,  it  is  true,  but  her 
ample  stock  of  self-esteem  did  not  seem  to  suffer  in 
the  least  from  that  circumstance,  and  in  spite  of  it  she 
contrived  to  wield  a  pretty  potent  influence  over  the 
other  girls  of  the  academy.  When  Jessie  became  a 
pupil,  and  it  was  whispered  from  one  to  another  that 
she  was  a  scholar  of  unusual  promise,  Abby  con- 
temptuously remarked: 

"  Oh,  it 's  that  drunken  Hapley's  daughter,  is  n't  it  ? 
I  wonder  who  pays  the  bills  ?  Well,  I  do  n't  think  I 
shall  associate  with  such  folks,  if  they  do  feel  smart. 
If  there 's  anything  I  despise,  it 's  to  see  a  poor  girl 
all  the  time  trying  to  be  somebody." 

This  cruel  remark  was  quickly  reported  to  Jessie, 
by  some  well-meaning  but  inconsiderate  friend.  Fool- 
ish as  it  was,  it  entered  her  sensitive  heart  like  an 
arrow,  and  for  days  and  nights  she  tried  in  vain  to 


THEBESOLUTION.  45 

dislodge  the  poisoned  shaft.  But  at  length  she  was 
fortunate  enough  to  find  a  complete  antidote  for  the 
envenomed  wound.  She  had  studied  until  late  in  the 
evening,  and  on  retiring,  her  wakeful  thoughts  refused 
to  be  composed,  and  the  old  ogre  which  had  haunted 
her  of  late,  returned  to  torment  her.  Then  she  reso- 
lutely and  calmly  said  to  herself: 

"  I  will  endure  this  no  longer.  Henceforth  I  will 
'try  to  be  somebody,'  if  I  never  have  tried  before; 
not  in  the  foolish  sense  that  Abby  Leonard  meant,  but 
in  a  higher  and  nobler  one.  Her  taunt  shall  furnish 
me  with  a  motto  and  a  spur.  I  will  show  to  her  and 
all  my  acquaintances  that  I  have  no  ambition  to  be- 
come a*  fine  lady,  or  to  affect  gentility,  or  to  pass  for 
what  I  am  not.  I  will  show  to  them  that  even  a  poor 
girl  may  aspire  to  something  better  than  these.  The 
'somebody'  that  I  try  to  be,  shall  possess  a  pure  heart 
and  a  spotless  character.  She  shall,  if  possible,  reach 
an  honorable,  independent  and  useful  position.  She 
shall  make  her  influence  felt  in  the  world  for  good. 
She  shall  win  the  love  and  respect  of  those  who  know 
her.  The  poor,  the  suffering  and  the  erring  shall 
always  find  in  her  a  friend.  But  whether  she  sue- 


46  THE    FIRST    RECORD. 

ceeds  in  all  these  things  or  not,  her  life  shall  be  strictly 
governed  by  Christian  principles,  and  she  shall  always 
patiently  submit  to  the  will  of  God ; "  and  Jessie  con- 
cluded her  soliloquy  with  a  silent  prayer  that  no 
unworthy  motive  might  mingle  with  the  purpose  she 
had  formed,  and  that  she  might  be  enabled  to  adhere 
to  her  resolution  through  life. 

From  that  hour,  "  Try  to  be  somebody "  was  Jes- 
sie's motto.  The  sting  was  at  once  withdrawn  from 
her  wounded  spirit,  and  the  ogre  was  suddenly  trans- 
formed into  an  angel  of  light.  The  weeks  of  the 
academical  term  flew  swiftly  by,  but  ere  half  of  them 
had  sped,  the  aristocratic  Miss  Leonard  manifested 
not  only  a  willingness  but  a  desire  to  associate  with 
"  that  drunken  Hapley's  daughter,"  little  suspecting 
that  her  thoughtless  and  cruel  remark  on  the  first  day 
of  the  term  had  ever  reached  the  ears  of  Jessie. 

The  first  record  Jessie  was  called  to  make  in  her 
journal  was  a  very  sad  one.  On  the  afternoon  of 
New- Year's  day,  her  youngest  brother,  Benjamin,  fell 
asleep  in  the  arms  of  his  mother,  never  more  to 
awake  in  this  world,  until  the  dead  shall  arise  from 
their  graves.  For  a  day  or  two,  all  thoughts  of  the 


A    DRY    DIARY.  47 

journal  vanished  from  her  mind ;  but  when  the  first 
outburst  of  grief  was  past,  she  found  a  melancholy 
satisfaction  in  recording  the  incidents  of  Benny's  sick- 
ness and  death,  and  from  that  time  she  continued  her 
daily  entries  without  intermission. 

In  the  remarks  which  Mr.  Upton  made  to  his  schol- 
ars on  keeping  journals,  he  said  there  were  several 
ways  of  doing  this.  The  diaries  of  some  people,  he 
said,  were  merely  a  very  brief  and  dry  record  of 
events.  Supposing  one  of  his  scholars  to  keep  a 
diary  after  this  style,  he  said  something  like  the  fol- 
lowing would  be  a  fair  specimen  of  its  pages : 

SPECIMEN   OP   A   DIARY  —  IN   DRY  MEASURE 

"  Monday,  Dec.  20.  —  Cloudy  and  cold.  Attended 
academy  all  day.  Studied  in  the  evening.' 

"  Tuesday,  .Dec.  21.  —  Pleasant,  but  very  cold.  At- 
tended the  academy,  as  usual.  Went  over  to  Sarah 
Cobb's  and  spent  the  evening. 

"  Wednesday,  Dec.  22.  —  It  snowed  a  little  in  the 
forenoon.  I  studied  an  hour  in  the  morning,  and  then 
went  to  school.  In  the  afternoon  pa  carried  us  to 
ride.  Got  a  lesson  hi  the  evening,  and  then  read  till 
bed-tune." 


48  A    LONG    MEASURE    DIARY. 

Mr.  Upton,  who  was  in  a  rather  funny  mood,  said 
this  might  be  called  a  diary  in  dry  measure.  Another 
method  of  keeping  a  journal  he  illustrated  somewhat 
after  this  fashion,  denominating  it  a 

SPECIMEN    OF   A   DIARY IN   LONG   MEASURE. 

"  Monday,  Dec.  20.  —  The  weather  is  really  dismal. 
The  sun  has  not  shown  himself  to-day,  and  it  is  so  cold 
it  is  of  no  use  to  try  to  keep  warm.  I  meant  to  have 
had  an  hour  for  study  in  the  morning,  but  it  was  so 
cloudy  and  dark  that  I  over-slept  myself  and  lost  it. 
It  seems  as  if  the  mornings  were  always  cloudy,  when 
the  days  are  shortest.  I  shall  be  thankful  when  they 
begin  to  lengthen.  How  many  precious  hours  I  waste 
abed,  when  the  days  are  so  short !  I  attended  the 
academy  morning  and  afternoon,  and  got  through  tol- 
erably well  with  all  the  recitations,  though  I  thought 
I  should  break  down  in  grammar.  I  do  wish  I  could 
take  more  interest  in  grammar,  but  I  do  n't  think  I 
shall  ever  like  it.  I  suppose  it  is  a  necessary  study, 
but  I  think  it  is  the  dryest  and  hardest  one  we  have. 
I  wore  my  new  plaid  winter  dress  to  school,  to-day, 
for^  the  first  time.  The  girls  all  think  it  is  pretty,  and 
so  do  I.  I  fixed  my  hair  in  a  new  way,  this  morning, 
which  I  think  becomes  me  much  better  than  the  old 
way  though  John  laughed  at  it  until  he  got  me  almost 


A    LONG     MEASURE    DIARY.  49 

angry*  I  wonder  that  father  will  let  that  boy  plague 
me  so.  After  tea  I  spent  two  hours  in  trying  to  learn 
my  history  lesson,  but  did  not  get  it  perfectly,  after 
all.  I  think-  it  is  too  bad  to  give  us  such  long  lessons. 
Two  pages  and  a  hah0,  full  of  hard  names,  is  enough  to 
try  anybody's  patience.  I  got  sleepy  over  it,  and 
went  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock. 

"  Tuesday,  Dec.  21. — We  have  had  a  pleasant  day, 
at  last,  but  such  a  cold  one !  I  ought  to  have  got  up 
early,  and  looked  over  my  history  lesson  again,  but  it 
was  so  awful  cold  I  dreaded  to,  and  so  I  laid  abed  till 
ma  called  me  to  breakfast.  Somehow,  all  my  good 
early-rising  resolutions  vanish,  these  cold  mornings. 
I  had  a  terrible  time  getting  to  school,  and  for  a  while 
I  really  thought  I  had  frozen  my  nose.  It  actually  felt 
stiff.  The  academy  was  so  cold,  that  Mr.  Upton  let 
those  of  us  who  sit  back  come  forward  and  gather 
around  the  stove  to  warm  ourselves.  Then  he  made 
all  the  scholars  form  a  procession,  and  march  around 
the  room  half  a  dozen  times,  in  double  quick  time,  to 
quicken  our  blood.  I  missed  once  in  history,  just  as 
I  expected,  but  was  marked  perfect  in  all  the  other 
recitations.  I  went  over  to  Sarah  Cobb's  and  spent 
the  evening.  She  sent  for  me  to  come,  as  she  was 
going  to  be  alone.  We  sewed,  and  talked,  and  had  a 
good  time  ;  but  we  got  terribly  frightened,  just  before 
the  folks  got  back.  We  thought  we  heard  steps 
5 


50  A    LONG    MEASURE    DIARY, 

around  the  house,  for  two  or  three  minutes.  We 
listened,  and  kept  hearing  strange  noises,  and  knew 
there  must  be  a  man  around,  but  we  wondered  why 
he  did  not  knock  at  the  door,  if  he  had  come  with 
good  intentions.  Pretty  soon  he  did  knock,  sure 
enough,  and  such  a  knock !  We  thought  he  was 
banging  at  the  door  with  a  club.  Sarah  was  fright- 
ened out  of  her  wits,  and  declared  she  would  not  go 
to  the  door,  and  so  did  I.  At  last  she  went  into  the 
entry,  and  mustered  courage  enough  to  say,  'Who's 
there  ?'  Nobody  answered,  but  immediately  after 
there  were  three  tremendous  raps,  louder  than  the 
first.  Sarah  says  she  thought  the  door  would  be 
broken  down  the  next  time,  and  so  she  opened  it, 
when  behold,  there  stood  old  Deacon  Melcher,  who 
had  come  to  borrow  some  spearmint  for  his  wife ! 
The  old  gentleman  is  quite  infirm,  and  that  is  the  rea- 
son he  was  so  long  in  getting  to  the  door,  after  we  first 
heard  him ;  and  he  is  so  deaf,  that  I  suppose  he  does 
not  know  how  loud  he  knocks  at  people's  doors  with 
his  big  cane.  But  I  would  not  go  through  such  a 
fright  again  for  a  good  deal.  Mr.  Cobb  soon  returned, 
and  brought  me  home  in  his  sleigh. 

"  Wednesday,  Dec.  22.  —  More  snow !  Oh,  dear,  I 
wish  it  would  never  snow  any  more  —  I  am  tired  of 
the  sight  of  it.  Two  or  three  inches  fell  this  fore- 
noon, and  then  the  sun  came  out  bright.  As  I  was 


A    LONG    MEASURE    DIABY.  51 

away  last  evening,  I  had  to  get  up  this  morning,  and 
study  my  geography  lesson.  Mr.  Upton  says  he' 
wishes  us  to  study  at  least  two  hours  every  day,  out 
of  school,  and  I  should  think  he  meant  we  should,  by 
the  long  lessons  he  gives  us.  I  only  half  got  my  les- 
son, before  it  was  time  to  go  to  school ;  but  I  made 
out  to  finish  it,  before  we  were  called  to  recite.  I 
was  marked  perfect  in  all  my  lessons,  to-day.  There 
is  real  satisfaction,  after  all,  in  being  able  to  give  a 
perfect  recitation,  if  it  does  cost  some  labor.  I  think 
I  have  improved  some  this  term,  in  this  respect.  As 
father  says  I  am  not  going  to  school  after  this  winter, 
I  must  make  the  best  of  my  advantages,  while  they 
last.  How  thankful  I  ought  to  be  for  them !  After 
dinner,  father  tackled  up  Bessy,  and  took  mother, 
John  and  me  in  the  sleigh,  and  carried  us  to  ride. 
"We  went  about  two  miles  beyond  Mr.  Clarkson's  mill, 
on  the  Dodgeville  road,  to  where  Mr.  Rogers  lives. 
Father  had  some  business  there,  but  Mr.  Rogers  was 
away,  and  so  he  did  not  accomplish  anything.  We 
saw  Mrs.  Rogers's  baby.  It  is  as  fat  as  butter,  and  is 
a  real  cunning  little  thing ;  but  it  was  not  dressed 
neatly,  at  all.  It  is  strange  how  little  taste  some  peo- 
ple have.  Father  says  looks  are  of  no  consequence, 
if  the  child  is  only  kept  comfortable,  but  I  don't 
believe  he  really  means  it.  He  likes  to  be  on  the 
opposition,  and  get  me  into  an  argument.  "We  had  a 


52  A    SENSIBLE     DIAET. 

real  nice  ride,  but  it  was  very  cold  coming  home.  I 
do  wish  I  could  have  a  good  warm  pair  of  fur  mittens 
• —  I  think  I  really  need  them.  Father  says  I  might 
make  them  myself,  but  I  am  sure  I  never  could  do  it. 
It  took  all  of  two  hours  to  get  my  philosophy  lesson 
in  the  evening.  Then  I  had  an  hour  to  read  the 
Advertiser.  As  usual,  it  was  half  filled  up  with  pol- 
itics. I  don't  see  why  they  want  to  publish  such 
dry  stuff.  But  I  found  two  or  three  good  things  in  it, 
and  a  long  list  of  articles  advertised  for  Christmas  and 
New  Year's  gifts.  How  I  should  like  to  take  my  pick 
from  them !" 

"  There  is  still  another  method  of  keeping  a  jour* 
nal,"  said  Mr.  Upton,  "which,  by  way  of  distinction 
from  the  others,  we  may  call  a  diary  in  solid  measure. 
I  will  give  you  an  illustration  of  it,  and  we  will  sup- 
pose the  young  lady  to  pass  through  the  same  scenes 
that  the  others  record :" 

SPECIMEN    OF    A   DIAET IN    SOLID    MEASUEE. 

"  Monday,  Dec.  20.  —  Cold  and  cloudy.  I  intended 
to  study  an  hour  before  going  to  school,  but  as  usual, 
these  short  mornings,  I  over-slept  myself.  However, 
I  got  through  my  recitations  tolerably  well.  I  got 
one  or  two  new  ideas  on  grammar,  to-day.  Mr.  Up- 


A    SENSIBLE    DIABT.  53 

"  ton  Bays  'had  rather'  is  a  very  vulgar  expression, 
although  it  is  often  used  by  people  who  ought  to  know 
better.  'I  had  rather  go'  —  had  go  —  what  tense  is 
that  ?  '  I  would  rather  go,'  is  the  correct  phrase. 
*  Had  better,'  he  says,  is  also  bad  grammar.  He  says 
he  sometimes  hears  the  girls  say  such  a  dress  or  bon- 
net is  '  tasty,'  but  there  is  no  such  woftl  —  we  should 
SQ.J  tasteful.  I  studied  my  history  lesson  two  hours 
in  the  evening,  but  did  not  quite  master  it.  I  was 
tired  and  sleepy,  and  I  am  afraid  I  did  not  apply  my 
mind  very  closely  to  it. 

"  Tuesday,  Dec.  21.  —  Pleasant,  but  the  coldest  day 
yet,  this  winter.  Thermometer  3°  below  zero,  at  sun- 
rise. The  almanac  says  '  winter  commences '  to-day, 
and  I  should  think  it  did,  in  good  earnest  This  is 
the  shortest  day  of  the  year,  the  sun  having  reached 
its  greatest  southern  declination.  Mr.  Upton  ex- 
plained it  to  us,  this  morning.  I  was  perfect  in  all 
my  recitations  except  history,  in  which  I  missed  one 
question.  It  is  strange  how  we  go  on  mispronouncing 
words  for  a  long  time,  without  discovering  our  error. 
Our  history  lesson  to-day  had  a  good  deal  to  say 
about  magna  cJiarta,  the  great  charter  of  liberty 
which  the  English  barons  compelled  King  John  to 

i  sign ;   and  it  turned   out   that  only  two  in  the  class 
knew  how  to  pronounce  charta.     I  always  supposed 
the  ch  should  be  pronounced  as  in  chart,  but  it  seems 
5* 


54  A    SENSIBLE    DIAKT. 

they  have  the  sound  of  k.  Distich  is  another  word 
that  I  never  knew  how  to  pronounce  until  to-day.  It 
occurred  in  our  reading  lesson,  this  morning,  and  I 
pronounced  the  ch  as  in  stitch ;  but  Mr.  Upton  cor- 
rected me,  and  told  me  to  call  it  distick.  I  could  not 
believe  he  was  right,  until  I  looked  into  the  large  dic- 
tionary. I  wish  I  could  learn  as  easily  as  some  of  the 
scholars  do.  While  we  were  reciting  history,  several 
of  us  missed,  and  Mr.  Upton  asked  us  if  we  had 
studied  two  hours  out  of  school,  according  to  the  rule. 
By-and-by  he  came  to  Jerry  Hall,  who  recited  so 
well  that  Mr.  Upton  said,  '  There 's  a  boy  that  has 
studied  his  two  hours,  I  am  very  certain.'  *  No,  sir,  I 
did  n't,'  said  Jerry,  '  I  only  read  it  over  twice  ;  that 's 
all  that  I  ever  study  my  history  lessons.'  And  yet  I 
spent  two  hours  over  it,  and  did  not  learn  it  perfectly, 
even  then.  I  stayed  with  Sarah  Cobb  in  the  evening, 
as  she  was  alone.  When  the  family  got  back,  Mr.  C. 
brought  me  home  in  his  sleigh. 

"  Wednesday,  Dec.  22.  —  A  little  more  snow  fell  in 
the  forenoon,  but  the  afternoon  was  pleasant.  I  got 
up  early  and  studied  an  hour,  before  school-time.  My 
recitations  were  all  perfect.  After  dinner,  father  took 
us  all  to  ride.  We  went  as  far  as  Mr.  Rogers's 
house,  on  the  Dodgeville  road.  We  stopped  there,* 
and  warmed  ourselves,  and  on  the  whole,  had  a  pleas- 
ant time.  I  noticed  that  the  snow-birds  were  very 


WHICH    IS    BEST?  55 

plenty  and  lively,  this  afternoon.  Father  says  that  is 
a  sign  of  a  storm.  These  birds  are  not  the  same  as 
the  little  chipping  sparrows  that  are  around  here  in 
summer.  I  always  supposed  they  were  the  same,  but 
father  says  it  is  a  mistake.  He  says  the  snow-birds 
go  to  the  Arctic  regions  in  the  spring,  and  breed,  and 
do  not  come  back  again  till  winter.  I  studied  a  phi- 
losophy lesson,  in  the  evening,  about  two  hours,  and 
then  read  the  '  Advertiser '  till  bed-time." 

After  giving  these  illustrations  of  the  different 
methods  of  journalizing,  Mr.  Upton  said  any  one  of 
them  was  better  than  no  diary,  but  there  was  a 
marked  difference  in  their  value.  No..,l,  he  said,  was 
dry,  bare,  and  uninteresting  —  a  mere  skeleton ;  use- 
ful, it  is  true,  but  not  half  so  useful  as  it  might  be. 
No.  2  was  too  wordy,  and  recorded  too  many  trivial 
things,  and  dealt  too  much  in  moral  reflections  that 
seemed  to  be  lugged  in  for  effect.  It  was  quite  a  tax 
on  one's  time  and  patience  to  keep  such  a  jourftal,  and 
perseverance  in  so  serious  an  undertaking  was  almost 
too  much  to  expect  No.  3  came  nearer  to  the  true 
idea  of  a  diary,  which  should  be  a  register  of  daily 
observations  as  well  as  occurrences  —  a  record  of 


56  JESSIE'S  MODEL. 

ideas  as  well  as  events.  This  was  the  system,  "  solid 
measure,"  which  he  recommended ;  and  it  was  this 
that  Jessie  took  as  her  model,  when  she  began  the 
experiment  of  keeping  a  journal. 


CHAPTER  m. 

SNOW    AND    ICE. 

ANE  day  Ronald  and  Henry,  Jessie's  brother,  took 
it  into  their  heads  to  build  a  large  snow-house  in 
tne  yard  back  of  the  house.  It  was  to  be  capacious 
enough  to  receive  half-a-dozen  boys  at  once,  and  so 
high  as  to  admit  of  their  standing  upright  within  it. 
There  was  plenty  of  snow  all  around,  and  by  working 
diligently  with  their  shovels  about  an  hour,  they  accu- 
mulated a  pretty  large  heap.  They  had  be.at  it  down 
hard  with  their  shovels,  as  they  piled  it  up,  so  that  it 
was  quite  solid.  But  after  working  harmoniously 
together,  all  this  time,  some  differences  of  opinion  at 
length  began  to  arise  between  the  two  builders. 
Henry  wanted  to  pile  on  more  snow,  and  make  the 
house  larger.  Ronald  insisted  that  it  was  large 
enough,  now.  Henry,  who  was  taller  than  Ronald/ 


58  A    DISAGREEMENT. 

declared  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  stand  up 
straight  in  it.  Ronald  told  him  not  to  be  alarmed 
about  that,  for  in  digging  out  the  inside,  he  meant  to 
go  clean  down  to  the  ground,  which  would  make  the 
hut  nearly  two  feet  higher  than  it  appeared  to  be. 

So  Ronald  carried  his  point,  and  Henry  yielded 
somewhat  reluctantly.  They  worked  together  again 
for  a  while,  though  not  quite  so  merrily  as  before, 
smoothing  and  rounding  off  the  pile  into  a  regular 
shape.  But  when  this  was  completed,  they  again 
began  to  dispute.  Not  that  either  of  them  was  of  a 
quarrelsome  disposition,  but  there  was  an  honest  dif- 
ference of  opinion  between  them,  and,  as  will  some- 
times happen  in  such  cases,  each  was  more  ready  to 
argue  his  own  side  than  to  listen  to  the  other.  Henry 
was  for  throwing  a  quantity  of  water  upon  the  heap, 
by  which  means  the  outside  would  be  turned  into  solid 
ice,  as  the  water  froze.  He  proposed  to  do  this  now, 
and  to  leave  the  work  of  excavation  until  another  day. 
But  Ronald  thought  the  heap  was  compact  and  solid 
enough  as  it  was,  and  it  would  only  be  throwing  away 
labor  to  put  water  upon  it.  He  determined  to  dig  it 
out  at  once ;  and  having  marked  a  place  for  the  door, 


THE    SNOW-HOUSE. 


59 


he  forthwith  began  to  hollow  out  the  hut,  without  fur- 
ther argument.     Henry  stood  leaning  upon  his  shovel, 


apparently  not  much  pleased  with  the  independent 
spirit  displayed  by  Ronald;  but  he  said  little,  and 
offered  no  further  assistance. 


60  ANGRY    WORDS. 

Such  was  the  position  of  affairs,  when  footsteps 
were  heard  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence,  and  Ronald, 
looking  over,  spied  Jessie,  who  had  evidently  set  out 
for  a  walk. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Jessie  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Down  to  the  pond,  to  see  the  ice-boat,"  replied 
Jessie. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute  and  I  '11  go,  too,"  said  Ronald, 
throwing  down  his  shovel,  and  brushing  the  snow  from 
his  clothes. 

"That's  right  —  I  should  like  company,"  replied 
Jessie.  "  Wont  you  come,  too,  Henry  ?  " 

"  I  can't  —  it 's  about  time  for  me  to  go  home,"  re-* 
plied  Henry. 

"  Well,  do  n't  you  touch  my  snow-house,  while  I*m 
gone,  will  you  ?  "  interposed  Ronald. 

"  Your  snow-house,  I  should  think ! "  retorted  Hen- 
ry, in  a  sneering  tone. 

"Yes,  it  is  mine,  for  it's  on  mother's  land,  and 
you  've  no  right  to  come  into  the  yard,  if  I  tell  you 
not  to,"  replied  Ronald. 

"It's  your  mother's  land,  is  it?  I  thought  she. died 
in  the  poor-house,  years  ago,"  responded  Henry,  with 


RONALD'S  HISTORY.  61 

a  bitter  look  that  did  not  seem  to  sit  at  all  naturally 
Upon  that  open,  good-natured  face. 

"  Well,  you  touch  it  if  you  dare,  that 's  all,"  replied 
Ronald,  with  an  angry  look;  and  leaping  over  the 
fence,  he  ran  to  overtake  Jessie,  who  had  walked  on, 
and  had  heard  none  of  this  ill-natured  conversation. 

To  explain  Henry's  ungenerous  fling  about  Ronald's 
mother,  it  should  be  mentioned  that  the  parents  of  that 
boy  were  poor  French  Canadian  emigrants,  who  were 
suddenly  carried  off  by  a  fever,  hi  Highburg,  leaving 
their  only  child,  Ronald,  at  the  age  of  eight  years, 
homeless  and  friendless.  He  was  a  singularly  bright 
and  lively  boy,  and  Marcus  Page  took  such  a  fancy  to 
him,  that  he  induced  his  mother  to  adopt  the  orphan. 
Never  having  received  much  training,  Ronald  had 
many  wild  and  strange  ways,  and  had  fallen  into  some 
bad  habits,  though  his  disposition  was  naturally  affec- 
tionate, kind-hearted  and  docile.  Marcus,  from  the 
first,  exerted  a  great  influence  over  him,  acting  the 
part  of  teacher  and  father  to  him ;  and  from  his  suc- 
cess in  making  a  good  boy  of  this  little  semi-savage, 
he  earned  the  name  of  "  the  Boy-Tamer." 

Ronald's  anger  was  somewhat  cooled  off,  by  the 
6 


62 


ESQUIMAUX    SNOW-HUTS 


time  he  overtook  Jessie,  although  he  was  not  yet  in  a 
very  pleasant  mood.  He  looked  back  several  tunes, 
to  see  what  Henry  was  about,  but  the  latter  stood 
leaning  upon  the  fence,  apparently  undecided  what  to 
do.  Jessie  asked  several  questions  about  the  snow- 
house,  as  they  walked  along.  Although  Ronald  did 
not  seem  inclined  to  say  much  about  it,  he  was  careful 
to  give  her  no  intimation  of  the  quarrel  that  had 
arisen.  She  had  been  recently  reading  a  volume  of 
Arctic  travels,  and  Ronald's  snow-house  reminded  her 
of  the  huts  of  snow  in  which  the  Esquimaux  live. 


She  explained  to  him  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
built     They  are  circular  in  shape,  rising  in  the  form 


THE    ICE-BOAT.  63 

of  a  dome,  and  are  built  wholly  of  ice  and  snow. 
"We  give  a  representation  of  one  nearly  completed. 
The  picture  also  shows  a  finished  hut,  in  the  distance, 
and  the  low  and  narrow  entrance  to  a  third,  hi  the 
foreground.  It  does  not  seem  as  though  these  snow* 
hovels  could  be  much  more  comfortable  to  dwell  in 
than  the  one  which  Ronald  and  Henry  built ;  but  the 
poor  Esquimaux,  though  living  in  a  climate  far  colder 
than  the  coldest  hi  the  United  States,  are  glad  to  make 
their  homes  in  these  rude  huts,  which  seem  fit  only  for 
boys'  playthings.  An  American  traveller  in  those 
regions  says  that  although  these  snow-houses  might 
not  be  considered  exactly  comfortable,  particularly  by 
those  who  had  a  fondness  for  dry  clothing,  and  for 
joints  that  did  not  creak  with  frost  in  the  morning, 
yet  he  confessed  he  had  often  slept  soundly  in  them. 

From  snow-houses  the  conversation  glided  to  ice- 
boats, which  are  sleds  or  boats  constructed  to  sail  on 
the  ice.  One  of  these  had  been  recently  rigged  up  by 
a  young  man  in  town,  and  as  it  was  a  novelty,  it  wa£ 
the  object  of  Jessie's  walk  to  see  it.  Ronald  had 
already  seen  it,  and  explained  its  construction  to  her ; 
and  she,  in  return,  told  him  how  in  Arctic  expeditions 


64  A    LIVELY    SCENE. 

the  sledges  were  sometimes  provided  with  sails,  by 
which  the  men  were  greatly  aided  in  their  tedious 
journeys  over  vast  fields  of  ice. 

Merry  voices  soon  informed  Jessie  and  Ronald  that 
they  were  in  the  vicinity  of  the  pond.  Round  Hill 
Pond,  it  was  called,  taking  its  name  from  a  prominent 
hill  near  its  borders.  It  was  a  beautiful  sheet  of 
water,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  hilly  land,  much  of 
which  was  covered  with  forest  trees.  At  this  time, 
^there  was  quite  a  large  gathering  of  young  men  and 
.boys  upon  its  glassy  surface.  There  were  parties  of 
merry  skaters,  performing  their  quick  and  graceful 
evolutions,  or  cutting  fantastic  figures  upon  the  ice. 
Some  of  the  skaters  had  bats  and  balls,  and  others 
were  drawing  sleds,  on  which  were  seated  their  little 
brothers  or  sisters.  There  were  also  some  famous 
coasts  on  the  pond,  which  many  of  the  boys  were 
improving.  Starting  high  up  on  the  steep  sides  of  the 
pond,  they  came  down  with  a  railroad  speed  that  sent 
them  whizzing  across  the  narrow  part  of  the  pond ; 
and  here,  fortunately,  was  another  icy  hill-side,  by 
which  they  were  returned  to  their  first  starting  place, 
in  the  same  way  they  came.  I  cannot  say  what  would 
have  been  the  consequences  of  a  collision  between 


THE    ICE-BOAT.  65 

these  two  opposite  trains  of  coasters ;  but  as  each  side 
had  its  own  track,  and  the  law  of  keeping  to  the  right 
was  enforced  by  common  consent,  they  got  along  with- 
out anything  more  serious  than  an  occasional  narrow 
escape  from  an  accident. 

But  the  great  attraction  of  the  pond  was  the  ice- 
boat. This  was  a  large,  rough  sled,  shaped  somewhat 
like  a  flat-iron,  and  instead  of  runners,  having  three 
skate  irons,  two  behind  and  one  forward.  The  for- 
ward skate  could  be  turned,  and  thus  served  as  a 
rudder  to  steer  the  craft.  Near  the  centre  of  the  sled 
there  was  a  mast,  capable  of  supporting  a  large,  square 
sail.  The  sail  was  dropped,  and  the  ice-boat  was  at 
rest,  near  the  edge  of  the  pond,  when  Jessie  and  Ro- 
nald arrived.  They  went  down  upon  the  ice,  to  have 
a  nearer  view  of  it,  and  found  the  young  man  who 
made  it  getting  ready  for  a  sail.  Several  persons 
were  standing  around,  one  of  whom,  a  middle-aged 
man,  was  endeavoring  to  convince  the  youth  that  he 
sailed  his  craft  wrong  end  first 

"  Why,  look  here,  John,"  said  the  man,  "  does  n't  it 
stand  to  reason  that  the  rudder  of  a  boat  ought  to  be 
in  the  stern  ?     Now  just  answer  me  that,  will  you  ?" 
6* 


66  A    DISPUTE. 

"Well,"  replied  the  boy,  availing  himself  of  the 
Yankee's  privilege  of  answering  a  question  by  asking 
another,  "  supposing  you  were  making  an  ox-sled  with 
a  set  of  double  runners,  would  you  put  the  traverse 
runners  behind,  because  you  were  going  to  steer  with 
them?" 

"  That 's  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  replied  the  other ; 
"  of  course  I  would  n't  build  an  ox-sled  as  I  would  a 
sail-boat.  But,  let  me  tell  you,  I  Ve  seen  these  things 
before  to-day.  I  was  out  in  Iowa,  one  whiter,  and 
crossed  the  Mississippi  in  a  sail-sled,  a  good  deal  like 
this,  only  she  had  the  two  stationary  runners  in  front, 
and  the  single  one  behind.  She  was  running  as  a 
ferry-boat,  and  she  flew  across  the  river  like  a  bird. 
And  then  she  'd  mind  her  rudder  just  as  quick  as  any 
boat  you  ever  saw ;  you  could  whirl  her  right  about 
in  a  moment." 

"  So  I  can  my  boat,"  replied  the  youth ;  "  and  as  to 
that,  I  do  n't  believe  it  makes  any  difference  whether 
the  steering  runner  is  in  front  or  behind.  Come, 
jump  on,  Mr.  Grant,  and  you  shall  see  for  yourself," 
added  the  young  man,  as  he  hoisted  his  sail. 

"  No,  you  '11  sail  better  with  one  than  with  two  on 
board,  with  this  wind,"  replied  the  man. 


UNDER     SAIL.  67 

"  "Well,  Jessie,  you  're  light  —  I  '11  take  you,  if  you 
want  to  have  a  sail,"  continued  the  young  man. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  I  had  rather  stand  here  and  see 
you  sail,"  replied  Jessie. 

"  Yes,  go,  Jessie,"  interposed  Ronald ;  "  I  would,  if 
he  asked  me." 

John  did  not  take  the  hint,  but  setting  his  sail  to 
the  breeze,  and  giving  his  craft  a  push  by  means  of  a 
boat-hook,  he  started  on  his  trip  alone.  There  was  a 
light  wind,  and  the  ice-boat,  after  a  few  minutes,  got 
up  a  pretty  good  speed,  sailing  along  very  handsomely 
at  the  rate  of  four  or  five  miles  an  hour,  which  is  a 
little  faster  than  a  good  walker  usually  travels.  The 
young  man  frequently  changed  her  course,  and  con- 
clusively showed  that  the  craft  obeyed  her  rudder,  if 
it  was,  as  Mr.  Grant  asserted,  in  the  wrong  end  of  the 
boat. 

As  the  sun  was  nearing  the  western  horizon,  Jessie 
and  Ronald  did  not  wait  to  see  the  return  of  the  ice- 
boat, but  started  for  home  after  it  had  disappeared 
behind  the  hills.  They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when 
they  discovered,  with  astonishment  and  awe,  that 
since  they  had  passed  securely  over  the  road,  but 


68  THE     SNOW-SLIDE. 

little  more  than  an  hour  before,  a  fearful  snow-slide 
had  taken  place  at  a  particular  point,  burying  up  the 
highway  for  nearly  a  dozen  rods,  to  the  depth  of 
twenty  feet !  The  road  at  this  place  wound  around 
the  foot  of  a  steep  hill,  upon  the  side  of  which  the 
deep  snow  had  become  softened  by  the  afternoon  sun, 
and  slipping  from  the  grasp  of  its  icy  moorings,  had 
swept  down  from  the  heights  above  in  an  avalanche 
which  must  have  shaken  the  solid  ground  beneath. 
There  was  a  farm-house  just  .beyond,  and  Jessie  and 
Ronald,  as  soon  as  their  first  surprise  was  over,  began 
to  feel  serious  apprehensions  that  it  had  been  swept 
away  m  the  rushing  tide  from  the  mountain.  They 
accordingly  scaled  the  immense  pile  of  snow,  which 
was  as  hard  and  compact  as  if  it  had  been  trodden 
down  by  the  feet  of  an  army,  and  hurried  forward  to 
ascertain  the  extent  of  the  disaster.  To  their  great 
relief,  they  found  the  house  safe,  but  so  near  had  the 
destructive  avalanche  come  to  it,  that  a  shed  attached 
to  the  barn  was  demolished  and  buried  up,  and  a 
wagon  standing  in  it  was  crushed  to  pieces.  The 
family  which  occupied  the  house  had  not  yet  recov- 
ered from  their  alarm  and  excitement.  At  the  time 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE.  G9 

the  slide  occurred,  the  mother  and  her  two  children 
were  alone  in  the  house.  Hearing  an  unusual  noise, 
which  jarred  the  building  like  an  earthquake,  she  ran 
to  the  door,  and  saw  the  whole  hill-side  apparently 
sliding  down  into  the  road.  Comprehending  her  dan- 
ger at  a  glance,  she  seized  her  little  girl  with  one 
hand,  and  her  babe  with  the  other,  and  fled  from  the 
house  with  all  possible  speed  —  all  of  them  bare- 
headed, and  with  only  such  garments  as  they  wore 
indoors.  Fortunately,  she  soon  met  her  husband,  who 
at  first  thought  his  wife  had  suddenly  become  crazy  ; 
but  after  hearing  her  story,  he  took  the  little  girl  into 
his  arms,  and  they  went  back  to  the  house.  When 
Jessie  and  Ronald  got  there,  the  man  was  trying  very 
earnestly  to  convince  his  wife  that  there  was  no  fur- 
ther danger,  but  she  kept  glancing  anxiously  at  the 
snow  on  the  hill  behind  the  house,  as  if  momentarily 
expecting  to  see  it  commence  its  destructive  march. 
There  was,  however,  really  little  danger,  now,  for 
such  was  the  form  of  the  hill  above  the  house,  that  a 
slide  would  not  be  likely  to  occur  there,  unless  in  con- 
nection with  an  avalanche  on  the  more  precipitous 
part  of  the  mountain. 


70  THE    SNOW-HUT    IN    RUINS. 

Jessie  and  Ronald  now  hurried  home,  thankful  that 
an  unseen  Hand  had  held  back  the  crashing  snow-slip, 
while  they  were  slowly  passing  along  its  track,  un- 
conscious of  danger.  So  intently  were  their  minds 
engaged  with  the  fearful  scene  they  had  just  wit- 
nessed, that  Ronald  did  ribt  notice,  as  he  passed  into 
the  yard,  that  his  snow-house  was  reduced  to  a  shape- 
less heap,  and  its  ruins  scattered  around  in  every 
direction. 


. 
CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    REFEREE    CASE. 

"T  WONDER  where  Henry  is;   I  haven't  seen 
him  for  three  or  four  days,"  said  Jessie  one 

morning,  as  Ronald  was  mending  one  of  the  straps  of 

• 
his  skates,  preparatory  to  an  excursion  to  the  pond 

with  several  boys  who  were  waiting  outside. 

No  reply  was  made,  and  after  a  moment's  pause, 
she  added, 

"I  am  afraid  he  is  sick.  Have  you  seen  him, 
lately,  Ronald?" 

"  No,  I  have  n't  seen  him  since  that  day  we  went 
over  to  Round  Hill  Pond,  to  see  the  ice-boat,"  replied 
Ronald. 

"You  haven't  heard  of  the  falling  out  of  Ronald 
and  Henry,  have  you  ?  "  inquired  Oscar  of  Jessie,  as 
soon  as  Ronald  left  the  room. 


72  THE    FALLING    OUT. 

"  A  falling  out  ?  No,  I  have  heard  nothing  about 
that.  What  is  the  trouble  between  them  ? "  inquired 
Jessie. 

"  I  did  n't  know  anything  about  it  until  yesterday," 
replied  Oscar,  "although  I  suspected  something  was 
wrong.  It  seems,  according  to  Ronald's  story,  that  he 
and  Henry  undertook  to  build  a  snow-house,  and  had 
got  it  nearly  done,  when  Henry  got  mad  about  some- 
thing or  other,  and  knocked  it  all  to  pieces,  while 
Ronald  was  away." 

"  But  I  can  hardly  believe  that,"  said  Jessie.  "  It 
does  n't  seem  at  all  like  Henry,  to  do  such  a  thing  as 
that  —  and  such  good  friends  as  he  and  Ronald  have 
always  been,  too.  Did  anybody  see  Henry  tear  the 
house  down,  or  is  it  all  mere  suspicion  ?  " 

"  It 's  nothing  but  suspicion,  I  believe,"  replied  Os- 
car ;  "  but  Ronald  says  he 's  certain  Henry  did  it,  and 
he  declares  he  will  never  have  anything  more  to  say 
to  him.  It's  a  little  suspicious  that  Henry  hasn't 
been  over  here,  since  that  day,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  believe  Henry  did  it,  unless  he 
acknowledges  it,  or«  some  witness  testifies  that  he  saw 
him  do  it,"  added  Jessie.  "I  will  go  over  and  see 


CALLED    TO    ACCOUNT.  73 

Henry,  to-day,  and  find  out  the  truth  about  the  mat- 
ter." 

•  In  the  afternoon,  when  her  work  was  finished  up, 
Jessie  went  over  to  Mr.  Allen's,  where  Henry  lived, 
and  made  inquiries  about  the  report  she  had  heard  in 
the  morning.  Her  brother  readily  admitted  that  he 
had  destroyed  the  snow-house ;  but  he  justified  him- 
self on  the  ground,  first,  that  Ronald  did  not  treat  him 
well,  but  provoked  him  to  do  it ;  and  secondly,  that  he 
had  a  right  to  destroy  it,  as  the  snow-house  was  just 
as  much  his  as  it  was  Konald's.  Jessie  listened  pa- 
tiently to  all  he  had  to  say  hi  his  defence,  and  then 
simply  inquired :  — 

"  Why  have  n't  you  been  over  to  see  us,  since  that 
day  ?  —  you  used  to  come  almost  every  day." 

Henry  bit  his  thumb  nail  nervously,  and  gazed  in- 
tently at  the  corner  of  the  carriage-shed,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  Come,  Henry,  I  want  an  answer  to  that  question," 

added  Jessie.     "  You  know  that  you  and  I  have  no 

•  better  friend,  next  to  our  mother,  than  Mrs.  Page. 

Then  all  the  rest  of  the  family  have  always  been  very 

kind  to  us.    Now  I  want  to  know  why  you  should 

7 


74  CONFESSION. 

shun  them  all,  and  your  own  sister,  too,  if  you  only 
did  what  your  conscience  approved,  the  last  time  you 
were  over  there.  Will  you  answer  me  that  ?  " 

After  a  long  pause,  finding  that  Jessie  was  still 
patiently  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  stammered :  — 

"I  don't  know  —  I  suppose  I  didn't  do  exactly 
right  —  but  Ronald 's  more  to  blame  than  I  am  —  he 
began  to  pick  upon  me,  first." 

"  Well,"  added  Jessie,  "  I  want  this  quarrel  settled 
right  up,  before  it  grows  any  worse.  You  acknowl- 
edge that  you  did  wrong ;  now  are  you  willing  to  con- 
fess this  to  the  one  you  wronged,  and  to  ask  his  par- 
don?" 

"  If  he  'd  apologize  to  me  first,  perhaps  I  would," 
replied  Henry,  after  a  little  hesitation. 

"  How  much  nobler  it  would  be  for  you  to  go  to 
him,  first,"  replied  Jessie.  "  According  to  your  own 
showing,  you  are  the  one  most  to  blame,  even  if  Ro- 
nald did  provoke  you  a  little.  Now  I  will  engage, 
that  if  you  go  and  acknowledge  to  him  that  you  have 
done  wrong,  he  will  make  ample  apology  to  you  for 
whatever  provocation  he  may  have  given.  Will  you 
doit?" 


RIGHTS    OF-  PAKTNEBS.  75 

"But  I  only  did  what  I  had  a  right  to  do  —  the 
snow-house  was  mine  as  much  as  it  was  his,"  said 
Henry,  evading  the  question. 

"I  have  some  doubts  about  that,"  replied  Jessie. 
"  The  snow-house  was  in  Ronald's  yard,  and  you  were 
his  guest  I  think  he  had  the  best  right  to  it.  But 
«even  if  you  were  equal  partners  in  the  matter,  you  had 
no  right  to  destroy  it  without  his  consent  He  has 
rights,  as  well  as  you.  Two  men  sometimes  build  a 
house  together ;  but  if  they  should  get  into  a  dispute, 
when  it  was  finished,  and  one  of  them  should  go  and 
set  the  building  afire,  or  pull  it  all  to  pieces,  I  think 
he  would  have  to  go  to  the  State  prison,  even  if  he 
did  own  half  the  property.  It  would  be  a  crime.  And 
it  is  just  the  same  in  your  case.  At  most  you  only 
owned  half  the  snow-house,  and  you  had  no  right  to 
destroy  even  your  own  half,  because  it  would  interfere 
with  Ronald's  rights  to  do  so." 

Henry  attempted  no  reply  to  this  reasoning,  but 
still  manifested  an  unwillingness  to  make  any  advances 
towards  a  reconciliation.  Jessie  then  tried  to  per- 
suade him  to  go  home  with  her,  and  have  an  interview 
with  Ronald,  she  promising  to  do  her  best  to  arrange 


76  LEAVING    IT    TO    REFEREES. 

matters  to  the  satisfaction  of  both ;  but  Henry  reso- 
lutely refused  to  do  this. 

"I  have  thought  of  one  other  way  to  settle  this 
quarrel,"  added  Jessie,  after  a  little  pause ;  "  and  that 
is,  to  refer  it  to  two  or  three  referees,  and  let  them 
decide  who  is  most  to  blame,  and  who  shall  make  a 
first  confession.  Will  you  agree  to  that  ?  "  • 

"  I  do  n't  see  any  need  of  going  to  all  that  fuss  about 
it  —  Ronald  began  the  quarrel,  and  if  he  wants  to 
make  up,  let  him  say  so,"  replied  Henry. 

"It  is  not  considered  a  very  good  sign,"  resumed 
Jessie,  "when  a  man  refuses  to  submit  his  dispute 
with  a  neighbor  to  two  or  three  disinterested  persons. 
People  say  he  does  not  act  in  good  faith.  It  looks  as 
though  he  were  neither  innocent  nor  honest.  Must  I 
go  home  and  tell  the  folks  that  you  have  done  this  ?  " 

"No,  I  didn't  refuse,  but  I  don't  see  any  use  in 
doing  it,  though,"  answered  Henry. 

"  Suppose  Ronald  insists  that  you  are  more  to  blame 
than  he,  and  refuses  to  acknowledge  his  error  until 
you  have  confessed  yours ;  how  can  you  ever  come  to 
terms,  unless  by  some  such  means  as  I  have  pro- 
posed ?  It  is  a  very  simple  thing,  and  if  you  are  both 


LEAVING    IT    TO    BEFEBEES.  77 

acting  in  good  faith,  I  do  n't  see  how  you  can  object  to 
it.  "Will  you  agree  to  it,  if  Ronald  will  ?  " 

"  Y-e-s,"  replied  Henry,  with  evident  reluctance. 

"  Well,  you  had  better  choose  your  referee  now  — 
that  will  save  the  necessity  of  seeing  you  again  about 
it,"  added  Jessie. 

"  I  'U  choose  you,"  said  Henry. 

"  Very  well,  I  '11  accept,"  replied  Jessie.  "  Ronald 
shall  choose  another,  and  we  two  shall  elect  a  third ; 
then  both  parties  shall  have  a  hearing,  and  you  agree 
to  abide  by  the  decision  we  make,  without  any  ques- 
tion or  grumbling,  do  you  ?  " 

"Why  — but — " 

« 
"No  whys  or  buts  now,  bub,"  interrupted  Jessie, 

u  the  award  of  the  referees  is  final — there 's  no  appeal 
from  it" 

"  Well,  but  suppose  you  referees  should  decide  that 
Ronald  should  give  me  a  thrashing ;  do  you  suppose 
I  'd  stand  still  and  take  it  ?  "  inquired  Henry. 

u  That  is  not  a  supposable  case,"  replied  Jessie. 
a  All  I  can  say  to  it,  is,  that  if  the  referees  think  the 
breach  cannot  be  healed,  and  justice  done  to  all,  with- 
out some  kind  of  reparation,  or  punishment,  we  shall 
7* 


78  A    TALK    WITH    RONALD. 

expect  the  guilty  one  to  submit  to  it,  whatever  it  is. 
But  I  must  be  going,  now  —  you  will  probably  hear 
from  us  to-morrow." 

Jessie  had  a  private  interview  with  Ronald,  on  her 
return  home,  and  found  that  he  was  really  much 
offended  with  Henry.  He  gave  his  version  of  the  dif- 
ficulty, dwelling  particularly  upon  Henry's  ungenerous 
fling  at  his  parents,  and  the  spite  he  exhibited  in  de- 
stroying the  snow-house. 

"  But,"  Jessie  suggested,  after  patiently  hearing  his 
statement,  "  is  n't  it  possible  that  you  were  the  aggres- 
sor, after  all  ?  Were  you  not  a  little  arbitrary,  and 
self-willed,  about  that  time  ?  And  did  n't  you  provoke 
Henry  by  telling  him  you  could  order  him  out  of  the 
yard,  if  you  chose,  and  by  daring  him  to  touch  the 
snow-house,  after  you  left  it  ?  You  know  Henry  is 
older  than  you,  and  that  made  it  harder  to  submit  to 
such  treatment.  He  feels  that  he  did  wrong,  and  I 
think  he  is  sorry  for  it ;  but  he  says  you  began  the 
quarrel,  and  are  more  to  blame  than  he  is.  If  you 
should  go  to  him,  and  apologize  for  what  you  said,  I 
am  confident  he  would  be  melted  into  penitence  in  an 
instant,  and  make  all  the  reparation  possible  for  the 
wrong  he  has  done  you." 


THE    MEETING.  79 

Ronald  was  ready  to  admit  that  some  of  the  blame 
should  be  placed  to  his  account,  but  he  did  not  think 
he  was  called  upon  to  take  the  first  step  towards  a 
reconciliation.  Jessie  then  told  him  of  the  referee 
plan,  and  he  cheerfully  assented  to  it,  and  chose  Mar- 
cus as  his  arbitrator. 

It  happened  that  Marcus  heard  nothing  about  the 
quarrel  until  Jessie  apprised  him  of  the  honorable 
office  to  which  he  had  been  chosen.  He  approved  of 
the  course  Jessie  had  taken,  and  accepted  the  appoint- 
ment ;  and  as  a  third  referee  was  wanted,  they  selected 
Oscar  for  that  post.  Shortly  after  this,  Mr.  Allen 
rode  by,  and  Marcus,  hailing  him,  asked  permission 
for  Henry  to  come  over  for  a  little  while  in  the  even- 
ing, which  he  readily  granted.  So  it  was  decided  that 
the  matter  should  be  settled  up  at  once. 

Henry  arrived  early  in  the  evening,  before  the  ref- 
erees had  commenced  their  business,  Jessie  being  en- 
gaged with  her  duties  in  the  kitchen.  He  was  ushered 
into  the  sitting-room,  where  several  of  the  family  were 
«eated,  including  Ronald. 

u  Mr.  Allen  said  you  wanted  me  to  come  over  here, 
this  evening,"  he  said  to  Marcus,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment of  manner,  as  he  entered  the  room. 


80  FAST    SKATING. 

"  Yes,  walk  in  and  take  a  seat  —  I  'm  glad  to  see 
you  once  more,"  replied  Marcus. 

"  Good  evening, .Henry,"  said  Ronald,  very  com- 
posedly, after  the  others  had  all  saluted  the  new- 
comer. 

"  Good  evening,"  Henry  feebly  responded,  blushing 
a  deeper  red  than  before. 

"  Been  skating,  to-day  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  No,"  replied  Henry,  in  an  almost  inaudible  tone, 
hitching  uneasily  in  his  seat. 

"I  have,"  continued  Ronald,  warming  up.  "Oh, 
you  ought  to  have  been  there,  and  seen  Gil  Bryant 
skate.  Did  you  ever  see  him  ?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  not,"  replied  Henry,  who  was  wink- 
ing intently  at  the  fire. 

"  Well,  if  he  is  n't  a  splendid  skater,  then  I  never 
saw  one,"  continued  Ronald.  "  Why,  they  say  he  has 
skated  a  mile  in  three  minutes  and  a  half ;  should  n't 
you  call  that  pretty  quick  travelling  ?  " 

Henry  silently  nodded  assent  —  to  the  fire,  and 
looked  more  "  worked  up "  than  ever. 

"What,  don't  you  believe  it,  Marcus?"  inquired 
Ronald,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  as  he  noticed  a  broad 
smile  illuminating  Marcus's  face. 


THE     SPELL     BROKEN.  81 

u  Believe  it  ?  "  responded  Marcus ;  "  of  course  I  do. 
I  Ve  skated  about  as  fast  as  that  myself,  before  now." 

The  fact  was,  Marcus  was  smiling  at  the  thought- 
less, good-natured  talkativeness  of  Ronald,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  timid  and  nervous  reserve  of  Henry, 
and  was  balancing  in  his  mind  the  question  whether, 
after  all,  the  services  of  the  board  of  arbitrators  would 
be  necessary  to  bring  the  opposing  parties  to  a  recon- 
ciliation. That  smile,  however,  seemed  to  have  broken 
the  spell  that  was  upon  Ronald.  He  dropped  the 
thread  of  conversation,  and  was  soon  lost  in  his  book, 
while  Henry  continued  to  sit  winking  at  the  glowing, 
coal-enveloped  back-log.  Aunt  Fanny,  who  sat  at  the 
table  sewing,  now  endeavored  to  draw  him  into  con- 
versation by  inquiries  after  Mr.  Allen's  family,  but 
did  not  meet  with  much  better  success  than  Ronald. 
Pretty  soon  Mrs.  Page  and  Jessie  came  in,  and  Mar- 
cus inquired: 

"  Can  we  have  the  kitchen,  now,  mother  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Page. 

"Well,  Jessie  and  Oscar,  suppose  we  withdraw," 
continued  Marcus. 

The  three  referees  retired  to  the  kitchen,  and  after 


82  THE     BOYS    EXAMINED. 

consulting  a  few  moments,  decided  to  examine  the  two 
parties  to  the  dispute  separately.  Henry  was  then 
called  in,  and  gave  his  version  of  the  difficulty,  from 
its  beginning  to  his  destruction  of  the  snow-house. 
He  defended  himself,  as  well  as  he  could,  and  prompt- 
ly and  frankly  answered  all  the  questions  that  were 
put  to  him  by  the  referees.  He  was  then  requested 
to  withdraw,  and  Ronald  was  called  in,  and  underwent 
a  similar  examination.  The  latter  seemed  in  quite  a 
merry  mood,  when  he  returned  to  the  sitting-room. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to  go  out  there,  and 
see  what  an  august  tribunal  we  've  got.  They  're  all 
as  sober  as  judges,  and  Marcus  has  got  a  sheet  of 
paper,  and  is  scribbling  away  on  it  as  fast  as  he  can. 
He  made  believe  that  he  was  writing  down  all  I  said, 
but  I  guess  I  can  talk  faster  than  he  can  write,  any 
day." 

"  He  was  only  noting  down  the  leading  points  of 
your  testimony,  I  suppose,"  remarked  Mrs.  Page. 

"  Leading^  points  ?  "  continued  Ronald  ;  "  he  must 
have  found  them  pretty  thick,  then,  for  he  kept  scrib- 
bling the  whole  time  I  was  in  the  room.  Did  he 
when  you  was  in  there,  Henry?" 


MAKING    UP.  83 

u  Yes,"  replied  Henry,  "  he  filled  a  whole  page,  and 
began  another." 

"  Well,"  added  Ronald,  with  an  air  of  mock  gravity, 
"  I  suppose  the  momentous  question  is  almost  decided. 
I  tremble  for  my  fate  —  do  n't  you,  Henry  ?  " 

K  Not  much,"  replied  Henry,  with  a  smile. 

"  After  all,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  be  resigned," 
continued  Ronald ;  "  I  'm  not  going  to  worry  about  it, 
any  way." 

"  I  do  n't  think  it  will  be  a  very  great  hardship  to 
either  of  you,  to  shake  hands  and  become  friends 
again,  if  that  is  all  the  referees  ask,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Page. 

"Nor  I,  neither.  Come,  Henry,  let's  do  it  now, 
and  get  the  start  of  them,"  cried  Ronald ;  and  grasp- 
ing each  other's  hands,  the  two  estranged  playmates 
indulged  in  a  long  and  hearty  shake,  and  felt  that 
their  quarrel  was  at  once  healed. 

"  "Well  done,  boys ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Page.  "  Now 
how  much  better  that  is,  than  to  let  such  a  trifling 
thing  make  enemies  of  you.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
you  both  remembered  this  act  as  long  as  you  live; 
and  you  '11  always  remember  it  with  pleasure,  too." 


84         RONALD'S  ANNOUNCEMENT. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that 's  all  they  '11  tell  us  to  do  — 
to  shake  hands  and  make  up  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  I  have  n't  any  idea  what  kind  of  a  decision  they 
will  make,  as  I  know  but  little  about  the  facts  in  the 
case,"  replied  Mrs.  Page. 

"It  seems  to  me  they  are  a  good  while  making 
their  decision,"  said  Henry ;  "  I  should  think  it  was 
about  time  to  hear  from  them." 

Oscar  appeared  at  the  door,  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward, and  summoned  Ronald  and  Henry  before  the 
referees.  Marcus  requested  them  to  stand,  while  he 
read  the  decision. 

u  May  n't  I  say  something,  first  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Marcus. 

"  Well,  Henry  and  I  have  made  up,"  added  Ronald. 

"  Ah,  I  'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Marcus.  "  If 
you  had  done  this  a  little  sooner,  you  might  have 
saved  yourselves  and  us  some  trouble ;  but  as  we 
have  finished  up  the  business  you  employed  us  to  do, 
we  shall  expect  you  to  abide  by  our  decision,  and  to 
pay  us  our  fees." 

"  Fees  ?  Have  we  got  to  pay  you  fees  ?"  inquired 
Ronald,  with  a  laugh. 


THE    AWARD.  85 

"  To  be  sure  you  have,"  replied  Marcus,  with  the 
utmost  gravity.  "  It  is  customary  to  pay  the  referees, 
in  such  cases." 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  believe  you  '11  make  much  out  of 
me  —  I  can't  raise  more  than  one  cent  apiece  for  you, 
any  way,"  said  Ronald,  feeling  in  his  pocket. 

"  We  wont  discuss  that  point  now,  but  I  will  read 
the  decision,"  observed  Marcus;  "and  he  proceeded 
to  read  the  following  paper : 

"  AWARD  OF  REFEREES. 

"  The  Board  of  Referees  in  the  case  of  Hapley  vs. 
Page,  have  carefully  considered  the  matter  committed 
to  their  judgment,  and  have  come  to  the  following 
decision.  They  find  that  Page  originated  the  trouble, 
by  manifesting  an  overbearing  and  unaccommodating 
spirit  towards  Hapley  ;  by  claiming  exclusive  owner- 
ship of  the  snow-house  erected  by  their  joint  labors  ; 
and  by  using  taunting  language.  They  also  find  that 
Hapley  was  to  blame,  for  using  unkind  language 
towards  Page,  and  especially  for  destroying  the  snow- 
house,  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation.  Supposing  the  struc- 
ture in  dispute  to  have  been  the  joint  property  of 
Page  and  Hapley,  the  Referees  are  clearly  of  opinion 
that  neither  party  had  a  right  to  pull  down  the  whole 
8 


86  THE    AWARD. 

of  it,  or  even  one-half,  without  the  consent  of  the 
other.  Buildings,  ships,  etc.,  are  often  owned  by  sev- 
eral persons,  jointly ;  but  one  party  may  not  do  any- 
thing to  the  common  property  that  would  injure  the 
other  owners.  The  Referees,  therefore,  decide  that 
Hapley,  being  the  elder,  ought  to  express  to  Page  his 
regret  for  what  has  occurred  in  connection  with  this 
affair,  and  to  ask  his  forgiveness ;  and  that  Page,  in 
return,  ought  to  make  a  similar  acknowledgment  to 
Hapley,  asking  his  pardon  for  commencing  the  quar- 
rel. The  Referees  also  recommend  both  parties  cor- 
dially to  forgive  each  other,  and  to  manifest  their 
determination  to  do  so  by  shaking  hands. 

"The  Referees   further  order,  that  at  the  earliest 
practicable  day,  the  said  Hapley  and  Page  shall  erect 
a  new  snow  edifice,  on  the  site  of  the  one  destroyed, 
to  be   called  the  Temple  of  Peace.     Said   structure 
shall  be  of  such  size  and  proportions  as  the  said  Hap- 
ley and  Page  may  agree  upon,  and  when  completed, 
it  shall  belong  to  the  Referees,  who  shall  accept  the 
same  as  full  payment  for  their  services  in  this  case. 
"MARCUS  PAGE,     \ 
"JESSIE  HAPLEY,    >  Referees. 
"  OSCAR  PRESTON,  ) 
"  ffighburg,  March  4." 

As  soon  as  Marcus  concluded  the  reading  of  this 


JESSIE'S  PORTRAITS.  87 

paper,  Henry  stepped  up  to  Ronald,  and  taking  his 
hand,  told  him  he  was  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,- 
and  asked  his  forgiveness.  Ronald  responded  in  a 
similar  spirit,  and  a  cordial  shaking  of  hands  con- 
cluded the  ceremonies.  Marcus  then  thanked  them 
for  submitting  so  promptly  and  good-naturedly  to  the 
decision  of  the  Referees,  after  which  they  all  with- 
drew to  the  sitting-room. 

"  Jessie,  have  you  finished  your  gallery  of  literary 
portraits  ? "  inquired  Marcus,  as  he  drew  his  chair  to 
its  accustomed  place  at  the  table. 

"  Yes,  I  have  done  about  all  I  shall  do  to  it  —  I  am 
getting  a  little  sick  of  it,"  replied  Jessie. 

"  Suppose  you  pass  it  around,  then,  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  company,"  said  Marcus. 

"  I  'm  almost  ashamed  to  show  it,"  continued  Jessie, 
going  to  a  drawer  in  the  secretary.  "  There  are  so 
many  figures  that  I  did  not  have  time  to  take  much 
pains  with  them.  I  think  you'll  be  puzzled  to  tell 
what  some  of  them  represent." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  that,"  replied  Marcus. 

Jessie  had  a  taste  for  drawing,  and  had  taken  a  few 
lessons  in  this  art.  Her  interest  in  it  had  been  re- 


88  JESSIE'S  PORTRAITS. 

kindled,  since  removing  to  her  new  home,  by  the  offer 
of  Miss  Lee  to  give  her  further  instruction  in  the  use 
of  the  pencil.  Miss  Lee  was  an  accomplished  sketch- 
er  and  painter,  and  had  formerly  taught  these  branches 
in  the  academy,  for  several  terms.  The  "  gallery  of 
literary  portraits,"  alluded  to  by  Marcus,  was  under- 
taken by  Jessie  to  furnish  amusement  to  the  younger 
members  of  the  family,  rather  than  as  an  exercise  in 
drawing.  It  consisted  of  a  series  of  names  of  literary 
characters,  enigmatically  expressed.  She  handed  the 
sheets  to  Marcus,  who  passed  them  round  the  circle. 
Some  of  the  portraits  were  recognized  by  all  at  first 
sight ;  but  others  proved  quite  puzzling  to  the  younger 
folks,  and  there  were  several  which  no  one  could  solve, 
until  Jessie  gave  a  clue  to  them.  On  the  next  two 
pages  we  give  a  transcript  of  this  GALLERY  OF  LIT- 
ERARY PORTRAITS. 


L    An  Irish  Poet 


2.    A  Philosopher. 


3.    A  Religious  Poet, 


4.    A  Statesman. 


6.    A  Scottish  Poet 


7.    An  English  Poet. 


&  An  American  Traveller. 


9.   Another  Poet 


10.    A  Popular  Poet 


II.    An  Eminent  Divine. 


12.  A  Celebrated  Novelist 


13.    A  Philosopher. 


14.   A  Popular  Poet. 


15.    A  Celebrated  Orator. 


K.    A  Great  Poet. 


17.    A  Novelist. 


18.    Another  Poet. 


19.    An  American  Writer. 


20.    An  English  Poet 


21.    An  Astronomer. 


22.    A  Celebrated  Divine. 


23.    An  American  Poet 


24.    An  English  Poet. 


ejj  t0  tty  Jailers  rf  liters  {nitrite. 


1.    SWIFT. 
2.    LOCKE. 
3.    YOUNG. 
4.    Fox. 

5.    LAMB. 
6.    HOGO. 

7.    AKENSIDE. 
8.    KANE. 
9.    GAT. 

10.     COWPEB. 

11.    PALEY. 

12.    COOPEB. 
13.    BACON. 

14.    LONGFELLOW. 
15.    PITT. 

16.    SHAKSPEAEB. 
17.    OPIE. 
la    POPE. 

19.    SPARKS. 
20.    HOOD. 

21.  HERSCHEI,. 
22.  HOOKEH. 
23.  DRAKE. 
24.  CRABBB. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    DAT    AT    SCHOOL. 

"T71AKLY  the  next  Monday  morning,  a  sleigh  drove 
up  to  Mrs.  Page's  door,  containing  a  large  man 
wrapped  in  a  shaggy  bear-skin  coat,  a  girl  about  four- 
teen years  old,  to  whose  cheeks  the  frosty  morning 
air  had  lent  a  beautiful  glow,  and  a  boy  whose  age 
might  have  been  between  twelve  and  thirteen  years. 
The  girl  and  boy  hurried  into  the  house,  and  were 
warmly  greeted  by  all  the  family.  They  were  Kath- 
arine and  Otis  Sedgwick,  and  had  boarded  in  the 
family  for  six  months  past,  during  which  period  they 
had  attended  the  academy.  They  belonged  in  a  town 
about  ten  miles  distant.  Their  father,  after  hitching 
his  horse  in  the  shed,  and  throwing  a  blanket  over 
him,  came  in  to  have  a  chat  with  the  family,  and  to 
settle  the  "term  bills"  with  Marcus.  He  stopped 


^  OPENING  SCHOOL.  93 

Ip 

about  half  an  hour,  and  then  set  out  for  home  ;  after 
which  the  young  folks  began  to  prepare  for  school. 

The  academy  building  was  about  a  mile  distant 
from  Mrs.  Page's.  In  good  weather,  Marcus  and  the 
Students  in  the  family  usually  walked  to  and  from 
school,  taking  their  dinners  with  them.  This  first 
morning  of  the  new  term  was  a  bright  though  cool 
one,  and  soon  after  half-past  eight  o'clock,  the  six 
"  academicians,"  as  Ronald  called  them,  might  have 
been  seen  wending  their  way  through  the  snow-path, 
towards  a  little  white  belfry  that  gleamed  over  the 
tops  of  an  evergreen  forest  in  the  distance. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  bell  rang,  and  as  the  students 
jesembled  in  the  hall,  it  was  found  that  the  attendance 
was  quite  large.  The  old  scholars  took  their  former 
seats,  and  desks  were  assigned  to  the  new  ones.  Mr. 
Upton,  the  preceptor,  then  touched  a  little  hand-bell  — 
the  signal  for  silence ;  after  which  he  took  the  Bible, 
and  read  from  it  a  passage  rich  in  instruction  to  the 
young  —  the  fourth  chapter  of  Proverbs.  Every 
head  was  then  bowed,  as  he  offered  up  a  simple  and 
fervent  prayer  for  the  divine  blessing  upon  the  stu- 
dents and  teachers  there  assembled. 


94  WISDOM. 

After  these  exercises  were  concluded,  Mr.  Upton 
went  to  the  large  blackboard,  facing  the  school,  and 
wrote  upon  it  this  sentence,  in  characters  that  could 
be  seen  in  the  remotest  part  of  the  room  : 

"EXALT  HER,  AND  SHE  SHALL  PROMOTE  THEE." 

"  (  Exalt  her '  —  can  any  one  .tell  me  what  this 
refers  to?"  inquired  Mr.  Upton. 

"  Wisdom,"  was  the  general  answer  from  all  parts 
of  the  room. 

"  Right,"  replied  Mr.  Upton.  "  It  is  found  in  the 
chapter  I  have  just  read.  Can  any  of  you  tell  me 
what  wisdom  means,  in  this  case  ?  " 

There  were  several  answers  to  this  question,  such 
as  "  Religion,"  "  Prudence,"  "  Knowledge,"  etc.,  but 
they  were  mostly  given  in  a  hesitating  manner,  and 
only  a  few  of  the  scholars  made  any  reply  to  the 
question. 

"  The  word  wisdom,"  continued  Mr.  Upton,  "  has 
several  significations.  As  used  in  the  Bible,  it  some- 
times means  learning  or  knowledge  ;  and  sometimes  it 
means  piety,  or  true  religion.  This  last  is  the  sense 
in  which  the  word  is  used  in  the  chapter  I  read  to  you. 


STRON     MOTIVES.  95 

You  will  notice  that  it  is  a  favorite  word  with  Solo- 
mon, if  you  read  his  Proverbs.  But  you  will  also 
observe  that  much  that  he  says  about  this  heavenly 
wisdom,  may  also  apply  with  great  propriety  to  hu- 
man wisdom,  or  that  knowledge  with  which  we  store 
our  minds.  This  is  true  of  the  motto  I  have  written 
on  the  blackboard.  l  Exalt  her,  and  she  shall  pro- 
mote thee.'  That  is,  if  you  desire  promotion,  give 
attention  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  —  strive 
after  the  wisdom  and  skill  which  come  from  patient 
study,  practice  and  observation  —  give  the  work  of 
education  a  prominent  place  in  your  thoughts  and 
plans.  This,  to  be  sure,  is  not  the  highest  motive  we 
have  for  faithfulness  in  study,  but  it  is  a  strong  one, 
and  I  think  it  may  be  useful  to  press  it  upon  your 
attention,  as  we  are  entering  upon  a  new  term.  This 
is  the  idea  I  wish  to  impress  upon  your  minds,  viz., 
that  knowledge  brings  promotion.  Vice^  immorality, 
idleness,  improvidence,  or  misfortune,  sometimes  inter- 
fere with  this  general  law ;  but  on  the  whole  the  rule 
holds  good,  that  a  man's  happiness,  position,  property 
and  influence  are  promoted  by  knowledge.  I  feel 
safe,  therefore,  in  assuring  you  that  for  every  dollar 


96  PAID    FOR    KNOWING    HOW. 

your  education  costs  your  parents,  and  for  every  hour 
of  study,  every  act  of  self-denial,  every  effort  and 
struggle  it  costs  yourselves,  you  will  be  abundantly 
repaid  hereafter.  If  you  come  here  in  a  right  spirit, 
you  are  putting  your  money,  your  time  and  your 
efforts  into  a  safe  bank.  It  will  prove  a  capital  invest- 
ment to  you,  as  long  as  you  live. 

"  A  gentleman  at  the  South  once  employed  a  negro 
to  kill  a  calf.  When  the  animal  was  dressed  and 
brought  home,  Cuffee,  the  butcher,  demanded  two  dol- 
lars for  the  job.  'Why,  Cuffee!  do  you  charge  me 
two  dollars  for  dressing  a  calf? '  exclaimed  the  gentle- 
man. '  No,  massa,  I  charge  one  dollar  for  killin'  de 
calf,  and  one  dollar  for  de  know  how,'  was  Cuffee's 
reply.  Cuffee  was  right.  A  man  has  a  perfect  right 
to  charge  for  the  '  know  how.'  Arid  generally  men  do 
charge  for  it,  and  get  well  paid,  too. 

"Suppose  I  am  about  to  build  a  house.  In  the 
first  place,  I  hire  several  common  laborers  to  dig  the 
cellar,  and  pay  them  one  dollar  per  day.  These  are 
the  most  ignorant  and  unskilled  laborers  we  have 
among  us ;  that  is,  they  have  about  as  little  '  know 
how,'  as  a  man  can  get  along  with.  Their  tools  are 


THE    WORKMEN.  97 

few,  and  do  not  cost  much,  and  so  we  may  take  the 
dollar  per  day  they  earn  as  the  standard  market  value 
of  a  mere  unskilled  pair  of  hands  and  a  set  of  strong 
muscles. 

"  After  the  cellar  is  dug,  I  set  carpenters  to  work, 
employing  them  all  by  the  day.  By-and-by  the  head 
carpenter  brings  in  his  weekly  or  monthly  bill.  I  find 
he  charges  me  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar  a  day  for  one 
hand.  This  is  his  apprentice,  a  young  man  of  sixteen 
or  seventeen,  who  has  worked  but  a  year  or  two  at 
the  trade.  The  '  know  how '  he  has  acquired  makes 
him  even  now  of  as  much  value  to  me  as  a  full  grown 
man  of  the  common  laborer  sort.  Then  there  are  sev- 
eral journeymen  carpenters,  for  whose  services  I  am 
charged  one  dollar  and  a  half  or  three-quarters  per 
day.  These  men  have  no  more  physical  strength 
than  the  dollar-a-day  laborers — perhaps  not  so  much. 
Then  why  should  they  receive  fifty  or  seventy-five 
per  cent,  more  for  their  daily  labor  ?  A  small  frac- 
tion offsets  the  cost  of  their  tools,  and  the  balance  is 
to  pay  them  for  their  *  know  how.'  But  the  boss  car- 
penter, who  has  a  general  oversight  of  the  job,  and  of 
the  other  carpenters,  charges  perhaps  two  and  a  half 
Q 


98  THE    WORKMEN. 

or  three  dollars  per  day  for  his  time.  He  works  no 
harder  than  the  others,  but  he  has  more  '  know  how ' 
than  they,  and  is  paid  accordingly. 

"  So  it  is  with  the  masons,  painters,  and  all  other 
workmen  on  my  house  —  I  must  pay  them  in  propor- 
tion to  their  '  know  how.'  And  if  I  employ  an  archi- 
tect, to  make  the  drawings  of  the  building,  and  he 
should  charge  me  at  the  rate  of  five  or  ten  dollars  per 
day  for  the  time  he  spent  upon  them,  I  should  remem- 
ber that  his  peculiar  '  know  how '  cost  more  time, 
money  and  study  than  that  of  the  carpenter  or  the 
mason,  and  therefore  commands  a  higher  price  in  the 
market. 

"  Thus  you  see  one  of  the  ways  in  which  knowledge 
brings  promotion.  It  has  a  market  value,  in  dollars 
and  cents.  There  are  other  ways  in  which  it  pro- 
motes a  man.  It  saves  him  from  errors  and  blunders. 
It  increases  his  self-respect,  and  his  means  of  enjoy- 
ment. It  gives  him  a  higher  position  in  society.  It 
endows  him  with  greater  influence  among  men.  But 
I  will  not  weary  you  by  dwelling  upon  these  ideas. 
You  have  come  here  avowedly  to  get  wisdom,  and  I 
have  held  up  to  you  one  motive  for  persevering  in  the 


JESSIE'S  PROMOTION.  99 

work.  I  hope  we  shall  all  earnestly  seek,  and  find, 
not  only  earthly  but  heavenly  wisdom,  so  that  at  last 
we  may  receive  that '  crown  of  glory '  which  is  prom- 
ised, in  the  chapter  that  has  been  read,  to  those  who 
get  wisdom  and  understanding." 

Mr.  Upton,  aided-  by  Marcus,  then  proceeded  to 
arrange  the  classes,  and  perfect  the  organization  of  the 
school.  Jessie  was  very  glad  to  learn  that  her  plan 
of  paying  for  her  own  tuition  by  rendering  occasional 
assistance,  in  the  way  of  hearing  the  recitations  of  the 
lower  classes,  had  been  acceded  to  by  the  trustees. 
There  was  to  her  a  double  gratification  in  this ;  since 
she  would  not  only  earn  her  own  tuition  bills,  but 
would  all  the  while  be  gaining  experience  in  the  pro- 
fession to  which  she  was  looking  forward  with  so  much 
interest.  After  breaking  to  her  this  pleasant  intelli- 
gence, Mr.  Upton  added,  in  tones  audible  to  those  who 
sat  near  her :  — 

"  I  have  been  telling  the  scholars  that '  knowledge 
brings  promotion'  —  now  I  am  going  to  illustrate  it 
by  promoting  you  to  the  first  monitorial  desk.  You 
will  please  to  remove  your  books  to  that  desk,  as  I 
want  this  one  for  another  young  lady." 


100  THE    DINNEK    HOUR. 

There  were  several  monitorial  desks  in  the  hall, 
which  were  slightly  elevated  above  the  others,  and  so 
placed -as  to  overlook  them.  They  were  usually  as- 
signed to  the  oldest  and  most  trustworthy  pupils,  and 
were  regarded  as  posts  of  honor.  The  one  to  which 
Jessie  was  transferred  was  near  the  teachers'  desks, 
and  was  the  principal  monitorial  desk  on  the  girls' 
side  of  the  room.  With  a  modest  blush  she  gathered 
up  her  books  and  took  possession  of  her  new  dignity ; 
but  it  was  a  long  time  before  she  could  muster  courage 
to  look  up,  and  meet  the  battery  of  as  yet  idle  eyes 
that  were  directed  towards  her. 

The  organization  of  the  school  occupied  most  of  the 
forenoon.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  morning  session 
closed,  and  the  scholars  were  released  for  an  hour  and 
a  half.  About  a  score  of  them,  who  lived  at  a  dis- 
tance, remained,  and  either  singly,  or  in  little  scattered 
groups,  were  for  a  time  very  busy  over  the  contents 
of  sundry  small  baskets  and  tin  pails.  The  boys 
quickly  found  the  bottoms  of  their  dinner  receptacles, 
and  impatiently  sallied  forth,  with  a  half-eaten  apple, 
dough-nut  or  slice  of  bread  in  one  hand,  and  a  sled  or 
pair  of  skates  in  the  other. 


THE    SLOW    EOT.  101 

"  Good  riddance  to  you ! "  cried  one  of  the  girls,  as 
the  last  boy-muncher  —  one  of  the  slow  sort  —  closed 
the  door.  « 

"  Look  here,  now !  I  'm  not  gone,  yet,"  replied  the 
boy,  opening  the  door. 

"  Well,  you  'd  better  go,  —  and  tell  your  mother  not 
to  put  you  up  so  much  dinner  to-niorrow,  will  you  ?  " 
responded  the  girl. 

"  There,  now,  I  'd  come  right  back,  and  stay  all  the 
noon  with  you,  only  I  do  n't  want  to  humor  you  so 
much,"  replied  the  boy,  who  was  as  "  slow  to  anger " 
as  he  was  slow  in  eating  —  and  none  too  slow  in  either 
case,  after  all,  I  suspect. 

"O  do  come — we  should  be  so  delighted  with  your 
company,"  retorted  the  girl;  but  the  tramp,  tramp, 
tramp  of  a  stout  pair  of  boots  down  the  stairs  was  all 
the  reply  she  got. 

And  now  the  girls  seemed  determined  to  have  a 
good  time  among  themselves.  The  little  groups  grad- 
ually enlarged,  the  tongues  wagged  in  a  more  lively 
manner,  and  sundry  choice  tit-bits  were  transferred 
from  one  basket  to  another.  There  were  two  or  three 
"  new  girls,"  however,  who  did  not  venture  into  any 
9* 


102  THE    NOON    CHAT.    ^ 

of  the  social  circles,  but  demurely  sat  at  their  own 
desks.  Jessie  was  a  favorite  in  the  school,  and  quite 
a  number  of  the  girls  gathered  around  her,  among 
whom  was  Abby  Leonard,  who  sometimes  stayed  at 

noon,  by  way  of  change,  although  her  boarding-place 

) 

1  was  not  far  off.  Abby,  notwithstanding  the  foolish 
speech  she  made  about  associating  with  such  poor 
girls  as  Jessie,  a  few  months  before  this,  was  far  from 
shunning  the  company  of  that  young  lady.  On  the 
contrary,  she  seemed  to  court  it. 

"  Have  a  pickle,  Jessie  ?  "  inquired  Abby,  holding 
out  a  good-sized  cucumber. 

"No,  I  thank  you,  I  seldom  eat  pickles,"  replied 
Jessie. 

u  You  do  n't  ?  —  why,  I  Ve  eaten  six  as  big  as  that, 
this  noon,"  replied  Abby.  "I  had  to  'hook'  them, 
though,  for  Mrs.  Miles  would  fidget  herself-  to  death  if 
she  knew  how  fast  her  pickles  are  going  off.  I  love 
sour  tilings,  dearly.  When  I  was  at  home,  I  used  to 
eat  a  dozen  pickled  limes  a  day,  sometimes.  We 
always  keep  them  in  the  house — father  buys  them  by 
the  barrel.  I  think  it 's  real  mean,  that  they  do  n't 
keep  them  for  sale  here." 


PICKLES    AND    CAKE.  103 

% 

"  I  should  n't  think  it  could  be  very  wholesome  to 
eat  so  much  of  such  things  —  they  are  very  indigesti- 
ble," remarked  Jessie. 

"  O,  they  never  hurt  me  —  I  eat  everything  I  want, 
and  think  nothing  about  it,"  replied  Abby. 

Abby  then  prevailed  upon  Jessie  to  accept  a  piece 
of  her  cake,  but  immediately  added :  — 

"I  declare,  it's  so  mean  I'm  almost  ashamed  to 
offer  it  to  you.  At  home,  we  should  n't  think  it  was 
hardly  fit  to  set  before  the  servants.  Mother  never 
allows  our  cook  to  make  anything  plainer  than  nice 
pound  cake." 

u  I  call  that  very  good  cake  —  good  enough  for  any- 
body,"  said  Jessie,  utterly  indifferent  to  "our  cook" 
and  her  "  nice  pound  cake." 

"  Just  look  at  that  squint-eyed  girl  —  did  you  ever 
see  such  a  fright?"  continued  Abby,  in  a  whisper, 
alluding  to  one  of  the  new  scholars,  who  sat  in  her 
seat,  alone,  apparently  listening  with  a  good  degree  of 
astonishment  to  Abby*s  remarks. 

"  Poor  girl,  she  feels  lonesome  —  some  of  us  ought 
to  go  and  speak  to  her,"  said  Jessie. 

Abby  now  left  the  room,  whereupon  tne  girls  in 


104  'SCANDAL. 

Jessie's  neighborhood  began  to  make  merry  at  her 
expense. 

"  My  mother  does  n't  allow  the  cook  to  make  any- 
thing meaner  than  brown  bread,  and  we  have  that  on 
the  table  three  times  a  day,"  said  one  girl. 

"  When  I  'm  at  home,  I  eat  six  pints  of  pea-nuts  a 
day  —  father  buys  them  by  the  ton,"  said  another. 

"  Speaking  of  pickles  —  do  you  know  what  she  cats 
them  for  ?  "  inquired  another  girl.  "  I  can  tell  you  — 
she  thinks  they  make  her  look  pale  and  genteel.  She 
eats  chalk,  and  slate  pencils,  too  —  I  've  seen  her  do  it, 
many  a  time." 

"  Yes,"  added  Kate  Sedgwick,  who  was  one  of  the 
group,  "and  you  ought  to  see  her  drink  vinegar,  too. 
"Why,  she  makes  nothing  of  drinking  a  whole  cup  full 
of  clear  vinegar  at  one  draught." 

"  I  do  think  she  is  the  most  hateful  thing  " 

"  Come,  girls,  this  is  scandal,"  interposed  Jessie, 
"  let  us  talk  about  something  else." 

"Scandal? — no,  this  is  nothing  but  the  truth,  and 
telling  the  truth  is  n't  scandal,"  replied  Kate. 

"  I  think  it  is,  very  often,"  replied  Jessie. 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  call  telling  the  truth  talking  scandal, 


EVIL    SPEAKING.  105 

and  I  never  heard  anybody  say  it  was,  before,"  re- 
marked another  girl,  one  of  the  largest  in  the  school. 
"  If  a  girl  really  eats  chalk  and  slate  pencils,  and 
drinks  vinegar,  to  make  herself  look  genteel,  it  is  n't 
scandal  to  tell  of  it." 

The  other  girls  in  the  group  all  took  the  same 
ground,  and  Jessie  was  at  least  half  convinced  she  was 
in  the  wrong.  She  made  no  attempt  to  argue  the 
point,  but  sought  to  give  the  matter  a  practical  turn, 
by  saying:  — 

""Well,  I  never  hear  a  lot  of  girls  talking  about 
another  one  behind  her  back,  without  having  a  suspi- 
cion that  I  shall  be  served  the  same  way,  as  soon  as  I 
am  out  of  hearing.  Abby  was  here  a  few  moments 
ago,  and  we  were  all  on  good  terms  with  her,  and  she 
spoke  kindly  to  us.  But  every  tongue  is  against  her, 

as  soon  as  her  back  is  turned.     It  seems  to  me  there 

i- 
is  something  inconsistent  and  unkind  in  this.     If  we 

had  any  criticisms  to  make  on  what  she  said,  would 
it  not  have  been  better  to  have  made  them  to  her 
face?" 

"  Why,  Jessie ! "  exclaimed  Kate,  "  you  are  not  in 
earnest,  are  you?  Only  think  what  an  explosion 


106  STBABISMUS. 

there  would  be,  if  we  should  tell  her  just  what  we 
.think  of  her.  Everybody  dislikes  that  girl,  and  I 
don't  believe  you  think  any  better  of  her  than  the 
rest  of  us  do.  I  do  n't  see  why  you  should  stand  up 
for  her  so,  all  at  once  —  she  does  n't  deserve  it." 

"  I  have  n't '  stood  up '  for  her  more  than  I  would 
for  any  of  you,  under  the  same  circumstances,"  replied 
Jessie.  "I  only  proposed  that  we  talk  something 
beside  scandal.  Now  >  I'm  going  to  have  a  run  out 
doors  —  but  first  I  must  speak  to  Lucy  Grant  —  no- 
body has  spoken  to  her  to-day,  hardly,  and  the  poor 
child  feels  bad  —  I  can  see  it  in  her  looks." 

Lucy  was  the  "  squint-eyed  girl "  who  had  attracted 
Abby's  notice  a  few  minutes  before.  She  was  afflicted 
with  that  defect  of  the  eye  commonly  called  squinting, 
but  the  proper  name  of  which  is  strabism,  or  strabis- 
mus. In  her  case,  the  difficulty  originated  in  a  severe 
fit  of  sickness  which  she  experienced  when  she  was 
about  five  years  old,  and  which  was  attended  by  a 
great  deal  of  nervous  irritation.  There  are  muscles 
on  each  side  of*  the  eye-ball,  by  which  it  is  moved 
from  side  to  side.  Squinting  is  caused  by  one  of  these 
muscles  (usually  the  inner  one)  contracting,  or  grow* 


THE    SLIGHT.  107 

ing  short,  while  the  one  on  tlje  other  side  of  the  ball  is 

lengthened  in  the  same  proportion.     Sometimes  the 

• 
defect  is  very  slight,  but  in  the  case  of  Lucy  the 

deformity  was  quite  prominent,  and  it  began  to  cause 
her  much  mortification,  for  she  was  just  entering  upon 
her  teens.  Within  a  few  months  she  had  thought 
seriously  of  submitting  to  a  surgical  operation  —  for 
strabismus  is  sometimes  removed  by  cutting  through 
the  contracted  muscle  of  the  eye-ball ;  but  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  operation,  and  the  dread  of  the  pain, 
were  too  much  for  her  weak  courage  to  overcome. 

Lucy  belonged  in  Highburg,  and  was  more  or  less 
known  to  most  of  the  scholars.  Though  she  did  not 
hear  Abby  Leonard's  allusion  to  her,  she  saw  enough 
to  satisfy  her  what  the  purport  of  the  remark  was ; 
and  this,  together  with  the  little  notice  the  other  girls 
took  of  her,  exaggerated  by  a  somewhat  suspicious 
disposition,  had  depressed  her  into  a  not  very  enviable 
frame  of  mind.  A  few  kind  words,  however,  will 
often  dispel  the  blackest  cloud;  and  it  was  Jessie's 
privilege  to  wield  this  potent  power  in  behalf  of  Lucy. 
Greeting  her  with  the  cordial  air  of  an  old  friend,  and 
forgetting  the  disparity  in  their  ages,  Jessie  chatted 


108  CLOSING    SCHOOL. 

freely  with  her  about  several  matters  of  cttmmon 
interest,  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  added:--"-  , 

"  Come,  Lucy,  let 's  go  out  and  see  what  ia  going 
on.  You  mustn't  get  into  the  habit  of  sitting  hole  all 
the  noon-time  —  Mr.  Upton  tells  us  we  must  always 
go  out  and  take  the  fresh  air." 

Lucy  went  out  with  Jessie,  and,  after  mingling  in 
the  society  and  the  sports  of  the  other  girls  for  an 
hour,  returned  to  her  seat  at  the  ringing  of  tiie  bell, 
with  a  very  different  o.pinion  of  her  school-mates  from 
that  which  she  entertained  an  hour  before. 

The  afternoon  session  passed  off  quite  pleasantly. 
When  the  hour  to  close  arrived,  Mr.  Upton  gave  out 
a  hymn  to  be  sung,  as  was  his  custom.  Before  giving 
the  signal  to  commence  singing,  he  remarked :  — 

"  My  young  friends,  I  think  we  have  made  a  Very 
good  beginning  to-day.  Everything  has  gone  favora- 
bly with  us,  and  I  feel  much  indebted  to  you  all  for 
cooperating  with  me  so  willingly,  in  organizing  the 
school.  I  augur  from  this  day's  work  a  pleasant  and 
prosperous  term.  "We  seem  all  to  be  in  harmony,  and 
I  trust  we  shall  continue  so  to  the  end.  In  referring  to 
this  text  this  morning,"  continued  the  preceptor,  point 


THE    HYMN.  109 

ing  to  the  motto  on  the  black-board,  K I  made  a  some- 
what strong  appeal  to  your  ambition.  I  endeavored 
to  show  that  pecuniary  and  other  advantages  would  be 
your  reward,  for  faithfulness  to  your  studies.  If  any 
of  you  suppose  that  this  is  the  highest  and  noblest 
motive  for  study,  our  evening  hymn  will,  I  hope,  cor- 
rect the  error." 

• 

The  scholars  then  united  in  singing  the  following 
beautiful  hymn,  by  "  holy  George  Herbert : " 

"  Teach  me,  my  God  and  King, 

In  all  things  Thee  to  see ; 
And  what  I  do  in  any  thing, 
To  do  it  as  for  Thee;  — 

"  To  scorn  the  senses'  sway, 

While  still  to  Thee  I  tend; 
In  all  I  do,  be  Thou  the  way,  — 
In  all,  be  Thou  the  end. 

"All  may  of  Thee  partake: 

Nothing  so  small  can  be, 
But  draws,  when  acted  for  Thy  sake, 
Greatness  and  worth  from  Thee. 

"  If  clone  beneath  Thy  laws, 
E'en  servile  labors  shine; 
Hallowed  is  toil,  if  this  the  cause,— 
The  meanest  work  divine." 
10 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SHEETS    AND    BITTERS. 

A  MONG  the  sources  of  amusement  and  instruction 
enjoyed  by  Mrs.  Page's  family,  was  a  weekly 
newspaper.  I  do  not  mean  one  of  those  folio  medleys 
of  literature,  news  and  advertisements,  whose  weekly 
visits  one  or  two  dollars  per  annum  will  insure  to  all 
who  desire  them  —  though  this  useful  class  of  publica- 
tions was  fully  appreciated  in  the  family ;  but  the 
newspaper  par  excellence  was  quite  another  affair.  Its 
title  was  "THE  HOME  WREATH;"  the  publishers 
were  "  Page  &  Co. ; "  the  terms  were  "  gratis ; "  the 
publication  day  was  Saturday.  It  was  usually  com- 
posed of  one,  two  or  three  sheets  of  letter  paper, 
according  to  the  lack  or  press  of  matter  supplied.  All 
the  members  of  the  family  were  regular  contributors, 
and  Aunt  Fanny  was  the  editress.  The  contents  con- 


THE    WREATH.  Ill 

sisted  of  original  articles,  and  short  selections  cut  from 
other  newspapers.  All  original  articles  were  written 
on  one  side  of  narrow  strips  of  paper,  of  uniform  size, 
so  that  they  could  be  neatly  pasted  into  the  columns  — 
for  the  "  "Wreath  "  was  not  printed,  and  only  one  copy 
was  issued.  There  was  a  letter-box  in  the  entry,  in 
which  all  contributions  were  dropped,  and  through 
which  private  communications  were  exchanged  be- 
tween members  of  the  family.  Before  the  newspaper 
was  established,  the  family  had  resolved  itself  into  a 
"  Letter- Writing  Society,"  each  member  of  which  was 
bound  by  the  by-laws  to  write  at  least  one  letter  or 
note  per  week  to  some  other  member.  This  proved 
for  a  while  a  pleasant  and  profitable  arrangement; 
but  the  newspaper  enterprise  had  now  nearly  super- 
seded it. 

Jessie's  conversation  with  some  of  her  school-mates 
on  scandal,  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  led  her 
thoughts  to  that  subject,  afterward;  and  the  longer 
she  reflected  on  it,  the  more  confirmed  was  she  in  the 
belief  that  she  had  taken  the  right  ground  in  the  dis- 
pute. Still,  she  did  not  know  how  to  silence  objec- 
tions, and  prove  that  she  was  right,  and  her  investiga- 


112  THE    INQUIRE. 

tions  did  not  aid  her  much.  She  looked  into 
ster's  large  Dictionary,  and  found  that  one  definition 
of  scandal  was  "  something  uttered  which  is  false  and 
injurious  to  reputation."  This  rather  bore  against 
her;  but  the  other  definitions,  "reproachful  aspersion," 
"opprobrious  censure,"  and  "defamatory  speech  or 
report,"  seemed  to  favor  her  side  of  the  question,  as 
they  did  not  distinctly  recognize  falsity  as  an  ingre- 
dient of  scandal.  The  matter  was  by  no  means  clear 
to  her  mind,  however,  and  as  she  felt  the  need  of  fur- 
ther light,  she  wrote  the  following  communication  for 
the  "  Wreath,"  and  dropped  it  in  the  letter-box,  in  the 
evening : 

"Miss  EDITOR:  —  Several  of  the  scholars  of  the 
academy  had  a  little  dispute,  to-day,  on  the  question 
whether  a  person  is  guilty  of  scandal  who  merely  tells 
the  truth  about  another.  I  took  the  ground  that  to 
circulate  evil  reports  about  a  person,  even  if  they 
were  true,  was  scandal ;  but  the  others  all  disagreed 
with  me.  Please  inform  me,  through  the  columns  of 
the  '  Wreath,'  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong ;  and  if  I 
am  right,  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me  how  I  can 

prove  it. 

"  INQUIRER." 


HENRY.  113 

Several  days  passed,  and  it  was  now  the  middle  of 
the  week.  Nothing  had  been  seen  of  Henry  since  the 
Friday  evening  previous,  when  the  referee  case  was 
decided,  and  Jessie  began  to  feel  uneasy  about  his 
absence.  It  was  expected  that  he  would  come  over 
on  Saturday  afternoon,  and  help  build  the  "  Temple  of 
Peace."  It  was  now  too  late  to  do  this,  a  warm  rain 
and  thaw  having  carried  off  most  of  the  snow.  On 
Wednesday  afternoon  Ronald  and  Otis  were  going  in 
search  of  the  truant,  that  being  one  of  the  regular 
half-holidays  of  the  week  in  all  the  schools ;  but  be- 
fore they  were  ready  to  start,  Henry  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

"  Well,  you  're  a  pretty  fellow  ! "  cried  Ronald,  as 
soon  as  Henry  hove  in  sight.  "  So  you  've  come  over 
to  help  me  build  that  snow  temple,  now  the  snow  has 
all  gone." 

"  Can't  we  scrape  up  enough  in  the  garden  to  do  iff 
now  ?  —  let 's  go  and  see,"  replied  Henry. 

The  boys  went  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  found 

some  depth  of  snow  yet  remaining  under  the  shadow 

of  the  buildings  and  fences.     But  it  was  too  hard  and 

icy  to  answer  their  purpose,  even  had  there  been 

10* 


114  HENRY'S  TROUBLES. 

enough  of  it.  Henry  seemed  to  be  quite  disappointed, 
and  exclaimed,  with  considerable  warmth :  — 

"  It 's  too  bad !  But  there,  I  knew  it  would  be  just 
so.  I  could  have  come  over  Saturday  afternoon  just 
as  well  as  not,  but  Mrs.  Allen  would  n't  let  me.  She 
never  lets  me  go  anywhere,  when  I  want  to." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Ronald,  "  it 's  likely  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  snow  yet,  and  we  '11  build  the  temple 
when  it  does  come." 

"  I  do  n't  know  about  that,"  replied  Henry,  shaking 
his  head.  "  Besides,  I  wanted  to  build  the  temple 
right  away  —  it  spoils  all  the  fun,  waiting  so  long.  I 
wish  I  had  come  over  here  Saturday  afternoon,  in 
spite  of  her." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  get  away  this  afternoon?" 
inquired  Otis. 

"  I  asked  Mr.  Allen  to  let  me  come,  this  morning, 
and  he  said  I  might.  She  tried  to  keep  me  at  home, 
as  it  was ;  but  I  got  the  start  of  her,  this  time.  Mr. 
Allen  is  a  real  good  man  —  I  like  him  first  rate ;  but  I 
can't  bear  his  wife  —  she 's  just  as  cross  as  she  can  be 
to  me." 

Henry  remained  with  his  friends  most  of  the  after- 


HOMESICKNESS.  115 

noon,  and  spoke  rather  freely  of  his  mistress,  in  the 
presence  of  other  members  of  the  family.  Jessie  was 
much  pained  by  these  remarks,  and  before  her  brother 
returned  home,  she  had  a  private  interview  with  him, 
and  cautioned  him  against  speaking  so  disrespectfully 
of  Mrs.  Allen.  After  a  few  moments'  conference, 
however,  she  was  more  inclined  to  pity  than  to  cen- 
sure the  boy.  The  resentful  feeling  he  had  manifested 
in  the  presence  of  others,  melted  into  grief,  as  he 
opened  his  heart  to  his  sister,  and  poured  into  her  ear 
the  story  of  his  sorrows.  The  poor  fellow  was  still 
the  victim  of  homesickness,  and  not  without  good  rea- 
sons, it  seemed.  He  had  found  a  father,  in  Mr.  Allen, 
who  treated  him  with  parental  kindness  and  indul- 
gence, but  he  wanted  a  mother.  He  was  persuaded 
that  Mrs.  Allen  had  no  affection  for  him.  He  thought 
she  actually  disliked  him.  She  manifested  no  moth- 
erly interest  in  his  welfare  —  she  evidently  felt  little 
sympathy  for  him.  She  never  praised,  commended  or 
encouraged  him,  but  spoke  to  him  only  to  give  orders 
and  find  fault.  She  actually  seemed  to  take  pleasure 
in  thwarting  his  plans  and  wishes,  and  interfering  with 
his  enjoyment. 


116  MRS.    ALLEN. 

Such  was  Henry's  opinion  of  Mrs.  Allen.  It  may 
have  been  unjust  to  her,  but  he  evidently  was  per- 
suaded in  his  heart  that  the  woman  disliked  him,  and 
he  felt  unhappy  in  consequence,  and  hinted  of  run- 
ning away.  As  an  illustration  of  his  trials,  he  said 
that  whenever  he  finished  up  his  work,  and  wanted  to 
go  anywhere,  Mrs.  Allen  would  set  him  to  braiding 
husk  mats,  just  to  keep  him  busy,  although  "  she  had 
mats  enough  to  last  her  fifty  years,"  he  added,  rather 
indignantly.  It  was  mat-braiding  that  prevented  his 
coining  over  to  build  the  snow  temple  at  the  appointed 
time,  and  he  could  not  refer  to  his  severe  disappoint- 
ment, even  now,  without  some  petulance. 

"  Well,"  said  Jessie,  after  listening  patiently  to  this 
outpouring  of  complaint,  "I  am  very  sorry  to  hear 
this.  I  thought  you  had  got  a  good  home,  and  were 
happy.  But  I  cannot  believe  that  Mrs.  Allen  is  as 
bad  as  you  represent.  There 'must  be  some  mistake 
about  this.  She  appears  to  be  a  good,  kind-hearted 
woman,  and  she  speaks  of  you  as  though  she  felt  an 
interest  in  you.  I  can't  think  that  she  dislikes  you, 
unless  you  have  given  her  cause.  Are  you  careful  to 
try  to  please  her  ?  " 


HOW    TO    BE    LOVED.  117 

"Why,  yes,  I  do  everything  she  tells  me  to  do," 
replied  Henry. 

"That  may  be,"  continued  Jessie,  "and  yet  you 
may  not  try  to  please  her.  Do  you  remember  the 
anecdote  about  the  little  girl  who  was  asked  why 
everybody  loved  her  ?  '  I  do  n't  know,'  she  said,  '  un- 
less it 's  because  I  love  everybody.'  Now  is  n't  it  pos- 
sible that  you  think  Mrs.  Allen  doesn't  love  you, 
because  you  do  n't  love  her  ?  " 

"I  know  I  don't  love  her  —  but  it's  because  I 
can't,"  replied  Henry. 

"Suppose,  now,"  resumed  Jessie,  "you  go  home 
with  the  determination  of  making  her  love  you.  Try 
to  please  her  in  everything.  Do  everything  cheer- 
fully, and  do  it  just  right  Anticipate  her  wishes. 
Do  n't  let  her  see  any  scowls,  or  impatient  looks,  or 
hear  any  fretting.  Try  to  feel  grateful  and 'affection- 
ate towards  her,  and  think  as  well  of  her  as  you  can. 
Come,  Henry,  will  you  do  this  ?  " 

"  It 's  of  no  use  to  try  that,"  replied  Henry.  "  You 
wouldn't  talk  so,  if  you  knew  her  as  well  as  I  do.  I 
do  n't  like  her,  and  I  can't." 

"  Then  do  it  for  Mr.  Allen's  sake,"  continued  Jes- 


118  THE     PROMISE. 

sie,  "  if  you  cannot  for  hers.  He  treats  you  kindly, 
and  you  like  him,  and  I  suppose  you  would  be  glad 
to  show  your  gratitude  to  him.  But  what  would 
he  think  of  you,  if  he  knew  how  you  feel  towards  his 
wife,  and  how  you  speak  of  her  ?  For  his  sake,  if  for 
no  other  reason,  you  ought  to  try  to  get  along  pleas- 
antly with  her.  But  in  any  event,  I  beg  of  you  never 
to  say  another  word  about  running  away,  unless  you 
want  to  wholly  break  mother's  heart.  Sam  ran  away 
from  home,  and  you  know  the  consequences  of  it. 
You  and  I  are  all  that  mother  has  left  now,  and  if  we 

"  but  emotion  checked  her  utterance,  and  she 

gave  way  to  her  tears. 

Henry  seemed  somewhat  affected  by  the  advice  and 
entreaties  of  his  sister,  and  before  he  left  her,  he  prom- 
ised to  do  his  best  to  please  Mrs.  Allen,  for  one  week, 
and  to  refrain,  during  that  period,  from  saying  any- 
thing evil  of  her,  and  from  cherishing  any  unkind  feel- 
ings towards  her,  whatever  provocation  she  might 
give  him.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  or  as  soon  after  as 
convenient,  he  was  to  report  the  result  to  Jessie. 

The  "sugar  season"  had  now  commenced.  The 
rock  or  sugar  maple  is  a  common  tree,  in  Vermont, 

I 


MAPLE    SUGAR.  1^9 

and  every  spring  the  farmers  make  large  quantities  of 
sugar  from  its  sap.  The  sap,  when  it  begins  to  ascend, 
and  before  the  foliage  has  put  forth,  is  very  rich  in 
sugar.  The  time  when  this  takes  place  varies  from 
February  to  May,  according  to  the  season.  It  was 
now  the  second  week  hi  March,  and  the  sap  had  begun 
to  run  freely.  Mrs.  Page  did  not  own  a  "  sugar  plan- 
tation," as  a  maple  forest  is  called ;  but  there  were 
several  large  maple  trees  on  her  land,  near  the  house, 
which  Marcus  had  always  been  accustomed  to  tap,  in 
the  spring,  for  his  own  amusement.  The  process  of 
sugar-making  was  familiar  to  all  the  family  except 

Oscar,  who  had  resided  in  Highburg  only  since  the 

• 

previous  autumn,  and  had  never  witnessed  the  opera- 
tion. As  Ronald  hinted  pretty  broadly  that  he  was 
quite  willing  to  undertake  the  responsibility  of  extract- 
ing from  the  aforesaid  half  dozen  trees  their  yearly 
rental  of  molasses  and  sugar,  Marcus,  remembering 
the  pleasure  he  derived  from  the  same  occupation 
when  a  boy,  gave  up  the  business  into  the  hands  that 
coveted  it. 

Ronald  commenced  his  sugar  operations'  early  the 
next  morning.     With  a  small  auger  he  bored  several 


120  BOILING    THE    SAP. 

holes  in  each  tree,  two  or  three  inches  deep,  and 
inclining  upwards.  These  holes  were  about  eighteen 
or  twenty  inches  from  the  ground,  and  on  the  south 
side  of  the  tree.  Into  each  hole  he  drove  a  spile, 
which  consisted  of  a  piece  of  sumac,  elder,  or  sassafras, 
with  the  pith  bored  out,  and  one  end  sharpened.  The 
sap  flowed  through  these  spiles  into  the  tubs  or  buck- 
ets placed  to  receive  it.  When  Ronald  came  home 
from  school,  in  the  afternoon,  he  found  he  had  col- 
lected several  gallons  of  the  sweet  liquid,  which  he 
and  the  other  boys  removed  to  the  house.  A  large 
iron  kettle  was  filled  with  the  sap,  and  placed  over  the 

fire.     We  are  so  accustomed  to  speak  of  "making" 

• 
sugar,  that  it  is  possible  the  word  sometimes  misleads 

us.  We  cannot  make  sugar.  The  cane,  the  maple, 
the  beet,  and  other  plants,  are  our  sugar  factories,  but 
they  give  us  their  saccharine  treasures  greatly  diluted 
in  water.  We  boil  this  water  away,  or  evaporate  it, 
and  the  solid  sugar  remains  —  and  that  is  the  way  we 
"  make  "  sugar.  As  fast  as  the  water  evaporated  in 
Ronald's  kettle,  new  sap  was  added,  so  that  the  mass 
did  not  thicken  much  that  evening. 

The  next  morning,  Ronald  again  emptied  his  buck- 


SUGAKING    OFF.  121 

ets,  which  were  partly  filled.  The  kettle  was  kept 
over  the  fire,  through  the  day,  the  sap  being  turned  in 
as  fast  as  room  was  made  for  it  by  evaporation.  In 
the  afternoon,  when  the  liquid  had  thickened  to  a 
syr^P?  Mrs-  Page  removed  it  from  the  fire,  and 
strained  it  through  woollen,  and  then  suffered  it  to 
cool  and  settle.  In  the  evening,  the  boiling  was 
resumed,  under  Ronald's  direction,  the  white  of  an 
egg  and  a  little  milk  being  thrown  into  the  kettle,  to 
clarify  the  compound.  The  scum  was  carefully  re- 
moved as  it  rose  to  the  surface,  and  then  the  syrup 
was  boiled  with  a  gentle  fire  until  it  began  to  grain. 
All  hands  were  now  called  into  the  kitchen,  and  the 
poetry  of  sugar-making  commenced  in  earnest.  Some 
of  the  children  had  provided  themselves  with  pieces  of 
ice  hollowed  out  upon  the  upper  surface,  like  saucers, 
into  which  a  ladle  full  of  the  delicious  liquid  was 
dropped,  when  it  immediately  assumed  the  consistency 
of  wax.  Others  dipped  snow-balls  into  the  "liquid 
sweetness,"  or  dropped  the  syrup  into  cold  water,  in 
which  it  assumed  the  waxy  form;  while  the  older 
ones  were  content  to  eat  their  "  maple  honey  "  out  of 
plain  saucers.  The  syrup  was  by  this  tune  hard 
11 


122  THE    SUGAR    CAMP. 

enough  to  be  taken  off  the  fire.  And  now  it  had  to 
be  stirred  vigorously  until  it  was  cool  enough  to  cake, 
when  it  was  dipped  into  little  round  fluted  moulds. 
The  grain  now  quickly  hardened,  the  molasses  drained 
off,  and  the  boys  had  a  good  supply  of  prime  maple 
sugar  the  next  morning. 

The  next  morning  was  Saturday,  and  as  the  day 
was  fine,  and  the  maple  sugar  fever  was  now  fully 
developed,  when  Oscar  proposed  a  visit  in  the  after- 
noon to  a  "  sugar  camp "  about  a  mile  distant,  there 
was  a  general  response  in  favor  of  the  suggestion, 
among  the  young  folks,  and  Marcus  promised  to  go 
with  them.  When  the  party  were  about  starting, 
after  dinner,  it  was  found  that  Jessie  was  not  among 
them.  Her  brother  Henry,  too,  whom  Ronald  had 
seen,  on  his  way  home  from  school,  and  invited,  did 
not  make  his  appearance  —  a  circumstance  ominously 
suggestive  of  "  husk  mats  "  to  Jessie's  mind.  Perhaps 
it  was  partly  this  fact,  and  not  entirely  her  sense  of 
duty  to  the  family,  that  led  her  to  insist  on  remaining 
at  home  and  doing  her  part  of  the  Saturday  after- 
noon's work,  although  Marcus  and  Mrs.  Page  both 
urged  her  to  join  the  party.  She  had  her  reward, 


THE    SUGAR    CAMP.  125 

however,  in  an  approving  conscience,  whichever  may 
have  been  the  motive  of  the  act  of  self-denial. 

The  "  sugar  camp  "  which  the  young  people  visited 
that  afternoon,  belonged  to  one  of  their  neighbors,  who 
had  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  maple  trees.  They 
found  the  man  and  one  of  his  sons  engaged  in  collect- 
ing and  boiling  down  the  sap.  The  kettles  were  sus- 
pended by  chains  and  hooks  attached  to  a  stout  pole, 
which  wa%  supported  by  two  crotched  posts.  There 
was  a  lively  fire  under  the  kettles,  which  was  often 
replenished  by  wood  that  had  been  seasoned  and  split. 
During  (he  boiling  process,  it  is  necessary  to  have 
some  one  on  the  ground  night  and  day,  and  so  "they 
eat  and  sleep  in  the  camp,  and  there  is  no  rest  until 
the  work  is  done.  A  rude  shed  was  erected,  opposite 
the  fire,  for  their  protection.  The  side  towards  the 
fire  was  open,  for  the  sake  of  the  warmth,  and  for  con- 
venience in  watching  the  boiling.  The  floor  was 
thickly  carpeted  with  straw,  and  here  the  men  some- 
times took  a  nap  when  weary.  One  of  the  men  in  the 
engraving  is  represented  as  bringing  sap,  and  the 
other  is  blowing  the  candy  or  wax,  to  ascertain  how 
far  the  boiling  has  advanced. 

11*  •*      - 


126  THE  EDITOR'S  RELY. 

Marcus  and  his  companions  passed  an  hour  or  two 
very  pleasantly  in  the  camp,  chatting  with  the  men, 
watching  their  operations,  and  occasionally  taking  a 
sip  of  the  delicious  syrup.  Meanwhile  Jessie,  by 
virtue  of  their  absence,  got  the  first  reading  of  the 
"Home  Wreath,"  which  made  its  appearance  in  the 
afternoon.  Under  the  editorial  head,  she  found  the 
inquiry  she  had  sent  to  the  editress,  appended  to  which 
was  the  following  reply :  • 

"Our  correspondent  is  right.  To  circulate  evil 
reports  about  another,  without  a  good  object  in  view, 
is  wrong,  even  if  the  reports  be  true.  Those  who  do 
this  from  a  habit  of  tattling,  or  to  gratify  an  idle  curi- 
osity, or  from  envy  or  malice,  or  from  no  cause  what- 
ever, are  guilty  of  scandal.  We  have  no  right  to  pub' 
lish  the  evil  deeds  of  others,  unless  there  is  a  prospect 
that  we  can  accomplish  good  by  doing  so.  There  are 
several  ways  in  which  our  correspondent  can  prove 
this  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  young  friends,  if  they 
possess  ordinary  candor. 

"  1st.  She  can  prove  it  from  the  Bible,  by  such  pas- 
sages as  these :  '  Thou  shalt  not  go  up  and  down  as  a 
tale-bearer  among  thy  people.'  *  '  Be  not  a  witness 

*  Lev.  19:16. 


THE  EDITOR'S  REPLY.  127- 

against  thy  neighbor  without  cause.'  *  *  Judge  not, 
that  ye  be  not  judged.'  t  '  Speak  evil  of  no  man.'  J 
There  are  many  other  passages,  enjoining  the  same 
duty. 

"  2d.  She  can  prove  it  from  writers  on  moral  sci- 
ence, who  generally  teach  that  it  is  wrong  to  utter 
injurious  truth  concerning  others,  except  in  certain 
specified  cases,  where  the  ends  of  justice  require  it. 

"  3d.  She  can  prove  it  by  an  argument  drawn  from 
analogy,  thus :  —  Every  person  possesses  a  reputation, 
which  is  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  by  the 
community.  This  is  a  priceless  possession,  and  the 
greatest  harm  we  can  do  to  another,  next  to  corrupting 
his  moral  character,  is  to  injure  his  reputation.  This 
is  what  scandal  does,  and  it  is  this  that  makes  it 
wrong.  When  we  expose  another's  faults,  without 
adequate  cause,  we  virtually  declare  that  he  has 
more  estimation  than  he  deserves,  and  we  proceed  to 
strip  him  of  a  portion  of  it.  If  this  is  right,  then 
when  we  find  a  dishonest  man,  who  has  more  prop- 
erty than  really  belongs  to  him,  it  would  be  right  for 
us  to  rob  him  of  a  part  of  it.  Nobody  would  justify 
the  latter  case,  and  the  other  must  be  settled  on  the 
same  principles. 

"  The  exceptions  to  this  rule  are  few  and  simple. 

*  Prov.  24:  28.  t  Matt.  7:1.  J  Tit.  3 : 2. 


128  SCANDAL. 

When  the  ends  of  justice,  the  protection  of  the  inno- 
cent, or  the  good  of  the  offender,  demand  the  exposure 
of  a  transgressor,  we  are  bound  to  tell  what  we  know 
of  his  guilt,  to  those  whose,  duty  it  is  to  call  him  to 
account,  or  who  may  be  exposed  to  danger  from  him. 
"  We  are  glad  our  friend  has  called  our  attention  to 
this  subject.  Evil-speaking  is  a  sadly  prevalent  sin, 
in  our  community.  Some  wise  man  once  said,  that 
'if  all  persons  knew  what  they  said  of  each  other, 
there  would  not  be  four  friends  in  the  world.'  We 
are  afraid  there  are  many  people  in  our  town  who 
would  think  themselves  suddenly  deserted  by  every 
friend  they  ever  had,  if  all  the  scandal,  and  gossip  in 
circulation  should  be  borne  to  their  ears.  Let  us  set 
our  faces  against  this  mean  and  debasing  sin." 

Miss  Lee,  while  alluding  to  the  facility  with  which 
scandal  was  circulated  in  that  community,  might  have 
pointed  to  a  striking  exception,  had  it  been  proper. 
There  was  in  that  town  a  youth  who  had  run  a  wild 
and  reckless  course,  bringing  sorrow  and  shame  to  his 
parents,  and  retribution  to  himself.  He  had  twice 
been  put  into  prison  on  a  charge  of  crime,  and  had 
finally  been  tried  and  sentenced  for  larceny.  There 
were  three  persons  in  the  town  who  knew  these  facts 


A    NOBLE    EXCEPTION.  129 

in  his  history,  and  only  three.  So  inviolably  had  they 
kept  the  secret,  that  no  one  else,  not  even  the  mem- 
bers of  their  own  family,  suspected  that  the  young 
man  had  ever  departed  from  the  path  of  rectitude. 
That  youth  was  Oscar  Preston ;  and  the  three  friends 
who  had  so  jealously  guarded  his  reputation  in  High- 
burg  from  injuries  which  seemed  almost  inevitable, 
were  Mrs.  Page,  Miss  Lee,  and  Marcus.  They  were 
induced  to  receive  him  into  their  home,  because  he 
expressed  a  sincere  desire  to  reform ;  and  to  encour- 
age him  in  his  good  purposes,  they  had  carefully 
refrained  from  all  allusion  to  his  past  errors.  Oscar 
at  one  time  feared  that  the  secret  had  been  divulged, 
by  one  of  his  old  city  comrades  who  passed  through 
the  town  with  a  circus  company ;  but  so  far  as  he 
could  ascertain,  his  apprehensions  were  unfounded. 
He  had  now  lived  about  six  months  in  Highburg,  and 
had  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  kindness  which  had 
been  shown  to  him  by  his  aunts  and  cousin.* 

*  The  early  career  of  Oscar  is  related  at  length  in  the  first 
two  volumes  of  this  series,  "  Oscar,"  and  "  Clinton." 


CHAPTER  VH. 

HOW    TO    BE    HAPPY. 

TT7HEN  Henry  Hapley  left  his.  sister,  after  making 
the  promise  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  he 
came  to  the  conclusion,  upon  a  few  moments'  reflec- 
tion, that  he  had  been  coaxed  into  doing  a  foolish 
thing.  The  idea  of  loving  Mrs.  Allen  seemed  absurd ; 
and  as  to  pleasing  her,  he  did  not  believe  he  could  do 
it,  if  he  should  try  as  hard  as  possible.  However,  as 
he  had  made  the  promise,  he  finally  concluded  that  he 
must  try  to  keep  it,  at  least  for  the  week  to  which  it 
was  limited. 

Jessie,  'in  her  conversation  with  her  brother,  had 
come  very  near  to  the  true  origin  of  Henry's  troubles, 
though  she  knew  but  little  of  the  facts  in  the  case. 
The  truth  was,  he  did  not  try  to  please  his  mistress, 
and  it  was  mainly  owing  to  this  that  he  had  become 


THE     OVER-NEAT     WOMAN.  131 

so  unhappy.  Mrs.  Allen,  like  most  other  people,  had 
her  peculiarities.  One  of  the  most  prominent  of  these 
was  her  extreme  neatness.  She  carried  this  excellent 
virtue  to  excess.  A  grain  of  sand  in  the  eye  could 
hardly  be  more  painful  to  her  than  was  a  grain  of  dirt 
on  her  floors.  Everything  about  the  premises  that 
would  bear  contact  with  soap  and  water,  had  to  under- 
go its  regular  ablution,  even  to  the  outside  of  the 
house.  Her  husband,  sometimes,  while  witnessing  the 
terrible  scrubbings  which  were  of  almost  daily  occur- 
rence, used  pleasantly  to  remind  her,  by  way  of  warn- 
ing, of  the  good  Dutch  woman  who  scoured  her  floor 
until  she  tumbled  through  into  the  cellar.  But  her 
motto  was,  that  "nothing  is  clean  that  can  be  made 
cleaner ; "  and  so  she  patiently  scrubbed  on,  in  spite 
of  the  warning,  wherever  there  was  dirt,  or  even  a 
"might,  could,  would  or  should  have  been,"  upon 
which  to  hang  a  suspicion. 

Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  boy  thirteen 
years  old  is  capable  of  bringing  a  vast  deal  of  dirt 
into  a  house.  So  Mrs.  Allen  discovered,  to  her  dis- 
may, before  Henry  had  been  an  inmate  of  her  dwell- 
ing twelve  hours.  Not  that  he  was  unusually  dirty  or 


132  MAKING    DIRT. 

careless  in  his  habits,  for  he  was  as  neat  as  boys  will 
average ;  but  he  had  never  been  trained  to  that  rigid 
observance  of  the  laws  of  cleanliness  which  was  the 
rule  in  Mrs.  Allen's  family.  He  could  scarcely  stir  an 
inch  in  the  house,  no  matter  how  silently  or  secretly, 
but  Mrs.  Allen,  with  her  keen  sight,  could  track  his 
every  step.  There  would  always  be  snow,  ice,  water 
or  mud  from  his  boots,  hay-seed  from  his  clothing, 
crumbs  and  litter  from  his  pockets,  or  something  else, 
to  tell  that  he  had  been  there,  and  call  for  the  broom. 
Mrs.  Allen  began  at  once  to  combat  this  alarming 
evil — at  first  kindly  and  hopefully,  then  despondingly, 
and  then  chidingly.  Henry  thought  she  made  unneces- 
sary trouble  about  a  small  matter,  and  soon  began  to 
feel  provoked  by  the  measures  she  deemed  necessary 
to  insure  greater  neatness  on  his  part.  Frequently 
hearing  Mr.  Allen  good-naturedly  rally  his  wife  for 
being  so  over-nice,  Henry  soon  came  to  think  he  had 
a  right  to  set  himself  in  opposition  to  this  peculiarity 
of  her  character.  So,  after  a  few  weeks,  he  grew 
more  careless  than  at  first,  in  regard  to  making  dirt ; 
and,  when  irritated  by  the  scoldings  that  were  sure  to 
follow,  he  sometimes  even  took  a  sort  of  malicious  sat- 
isfaction in  the  mischief  he  had  done. 


ALIENATION.  133 

Mrs.  Allen  was  really  a  kind-hearted  woman,  though 
everybody  did  not  tind  it  out  at  first  sight.  She  read- 
ily assented  to  Mr.  Allen's  proposal  to  give  Henry  a 
home,  and  she  felt  much  sympathy  for  the  boy  on 
account  of  the  misfortunes  that  had  overtaken  his  fam- 
ily. But  now  her  feelings  towards  him  began  to 
change.  Henry  little  imagined  that  he  was  closing 
the  door  to  her  heart,  and  locking  himself  out ;  but  this 
he  was  doing.  Mrs.  Allen  could  not  help  noticing 
that  he  took  little  or  no  pains  to  please  her,  and  she 
soon  came  to  feel  that  it  was  of  little  consequence 
whether  she  consulted  his  wishes  and  happiness,  in 
her  arrangements.  So  the  unhappy  antagonism  be- 
tween them  grew  from  day  to  day. 

"When  Henry  reached  his  home,  after  his  interview 
with  Jessie,  he  found  Mrs.  Allen  in  a  rather  unamia- 
ble  mood.  She  said  nothing,  but  her  looks  indicated 
anything  but  peace  within.  She  was  getting  supper. 
Henry  usually  "  set  the  table,"  and  assisted  in  other 
ways  in  getting  the  meals,  and  clearing  away  after 
them;  but  the  table  was  already  spread,  and  seeing 
no  chance  to  render  assistance,  he  inquired,  after  sit- 
ting a  few  moments :  — 

12 


134  THE    SCOLDING. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do?" 

"  You  can  eat  your  supper,  I  suppose,"  replied  Mrs. 
Allen ;  "  you  're  always  sure  to  be  on  hand  for  that. 
The  work  is  of  no  consequence^  —  I  can  do  it  all  — 
yours  and  my  own  too.  You  have  n't  brought  a  stick 
of  wood  into  the  house  to-day — I've  had  to  go  out 
twice  after  some,  this  afternoon." 

"  Oh,  there  !  I  forgot  all  about  the  wood  —  that 's 
too  bad,"  exclaimed  Henry,  with  a  feeling  of  real  re- 
gret at  his  own  heedlessness  ;  and  he  started  to  get  an 
armful  of  wood,  but  was  called  back  by  Mrs.  Allen, 
who  told  him  it  was  not  wanted  now. 

"  You  went  off,  as  usual,"  continued  Mrs.  Allen, 
"  leaving  your  coat  on  a  chair,  and  your  old  muddy 
boots  right  in  the  passage-way,  for  everybody  to  tum- 
ble over.  I  think  it  is  very  strange  that  you  should 
have  to  change  your  clothes  every  time  you  go  out  to 
play.  Who  do  you  think  can  afford  to  clothe  you,  if 
you  put  on  your  best  clothes  whenever  you  get  a 
chance?" 

"  I  have  n't  been  playing,  this  afternoon  —  I  went 
over  to  see  my  sister,"  replied  Henry. 


THE    WOOD.  135 

"  There  was  no  need  of  changing  your  clothes,  to 
go  there,"  continued  Mrs.  Allen. 

"  TVell,  I  wont  do  so  again,  if  you  do  n't  want  me 
to,"  replied  Henry. 

This  answer,  though  made  in  a  respectful  tone,  sur- 
prised Mrs.  Allen  so  much,  that  she  looked  at  the  boy 
a  moment,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  he  could  be  in 
earnest. 

"  I  do  n't  see  how  I  could  have  forgotten  about  the 
wood,"  continued  Henry.  "  I  thought  of  it  as  I  was 
coming  home  from  school ;  and  I  started  out  to  get  it, 
almost  the  first  thing  after  I  got  home ;  but  just  then  I 
heard  the  cows  making  a  racket  in  the  barn,  and  I 
went  to  see  what  the  matter  was,  and  I  never  thought 
of  the  wood  again.  After  this  I  mean  to  keep  enough 
in  the  back-room  all  the  time  to  last  two  or  three 
days  ;  then  if  I  should  happen  to  forget  it,  once  in  a 
while,  you  wont  get  out." 

Henry  had  usually  received  the  reprimands  of  Mrs. 
Allen  in  sullen  silence,  and  no  wonder  she  was  sur- 
prised at  the  spirit  manifested  in  this  reply.  But  her 
husband  came  in,  tea  time  had  arrived,  and  the  subject 
was  dropped. 


136  A    NOTICEABLE     CHAXGE. 

Henry  was  at  this  time  attending  school,  as  Mr.  Al- 
len had  little  for  him  to  do.  He  was  to  have  from 
four  to  six  months'  schooling  a  year,  and  to  devote  the 
rest  of  his  time  to  work.  This  was  the  agreement 
made  with  Mrs.  Hapley.  Of  course,  while  attending 
school,  Henry  could  have  but  few  play  hours,  unless 
he  encroached  upon  time  that  should  have  been  de- 
voted to  work,  which  he  was  sometimes  tempted  to  do. 
The  next  day,  however,  after  the  conversation  just 
reported,  he  was  careful  to  do  his  work  up  thoroughly, 
although  it  left  him  no  time  for  sport.  He  had  the 
kitchen  fire  started  in  the  morning  before  any  one  else 
was  up  —  a  feat  almost  without  a  precedent.  Instead 
of  cutting  a  scanty  mess  of  hay  for  the  day,  as  usual, 
he  cut  enough  to  last  two  days.  The  wood-box  in  the 
house  was  heaped  full  in  the  morning,  and  again 
replenished  at  night.  And  so  with  all  his  other  work. 
The  yard  and  roads  were  very  muddy,  but  Mrs. 
Allen  searched  in  vain  for  his  tracks  on  her  clean 
floors,  and  as  she  did  so,  "  wondered  what  was  going 
to  happen." 

Thus  matters  went  on  for  several  days.  Xo  one 
appeared  to  notice  that  Henry  was  not  doing  just  as 


AN    IMPROVEMENT.  13} 

he  had  done  for  several  weeks.  He  got  no  commenda- 
tion or  encouragement,  either  -by  words  or  looks.  He 
was  a  little  disappointed  that  his  efforts  to  please  were 
not  noticed ;  but  then  it  was  some  satisfaction  that  no 
fault  had  been  found  with  him,  since  he  began  to 
reform.  Even  when,  while  wiping  the  supper  dishes 
one  evening,  he  had  the  ill  luck  to  drop  a  saucer, 
which  flew  into  fragments,  Mrs.  Allen  did  not  scold 
him,  but  simply  remarked  that  it  was  fortunate  it  was 
an  odd  one.  He  also  found  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction 
in  the  consciousness  that  he  was  trying  to  do  right. 
He  felt  on%  better  terms  with  himself  and  every  one 
else,  than  he  did  a  few  days  before.  His  moping, 
homesick  feelings  were  fast  disappearing. 

"When  Henry  came  home  from  school  on  Saturday, 
he  mentioned  to  Mrs.  Allen  that  he  had  been  invited 
to  go  over  to  the  sugar-camp  with  his  sister  and  others. 
As  he  had  been  away  one  afternoon,  that  week,  he 
did  not  like  to  ask  for  another  half  day  ;  but  he  hoped 
permission  would  be  given  him  to  go,  without  his 
request,  and  he  finished  up  his  work  as  quickly  as 
possible,  that  he  might  be  ready  to  start  the  moment 
the  word  was  spoken.  But  when  these  things  were 
12* 


138  BKAIDING   MATS. 

attended  to,  Mrs.  Allen  had  other  jobs  for  him  to  do, 
which  he  cheerfully  performed  ;  and  when  these  were 
finished,  knowing  it  was  too  late  to  join  the  excursion 
party,  he  actually  went  to  braiding  husks  of  his  own 
accord,  and  so  filled  up  the  remainder  of  the  after- 
noon. 

"  Why,  Henry !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Allen,  as  she  went 
into  the  barn  towards  sunset,  and  found  the  boy  at 
work,  "  I  thought  you  had  gone  off  to  play.  You 
need  n't  have  done  this,  to-day." 

"  I  thought  I  would  be  getting  the  husks  out  of  the 
way,  they  have  been  lying  around  so  long,"  replied 
Henry. 

"  "Well,  I  think  you  have  got  enough  braided  —  you 
can  use  the  rest  for  litter,"  said  Mrs.  Allen. 

Henry  was  delighted  to  hear  this,  for  he  was  heart- 
ily sick  of  braiding  husks.  The  bin  was  quickly 
emptied  of  its  contents,  and  before  the  barn  was  shut 
up  for  the  night,  the  two  horses  were  standing  knee 
deep  in  clean,  sweet  corn  husks. 

Henry  faithfully  kept  his  promise  to  Jessie,  through 
the  week  agreed  upon,  which  ended  the  next  "Wednes- 
day afternoon.  He  expected  to  have  an  opportunity 


ANOTHER    TRIAL.  139 

t«.  see  Jessie,  at  least  for  a  few  moments,  that  after- 
noon, and  to  tell  her  of  his  success  ;  but  after  dinner, 
Mr.  Allen  and  his  wife  went  away,  to  be  gone  until 
night,  leaving  the  house  and  their  little  boy  in  charge 
of  Henry.  So  his  plans  were  again  frustrated.  He 
did  not  manifest  any  ill-humor,  however,  although  for 
a  moment  he  was  inclined  to.  "Willie,  Mr.  Allen's 
only  child,  was  about  six  years  old.  He  had  the 
hooping-cough,  at  this  time  ;  and  as  the  day  was  very 
windy  and  blustering,  his  mother  wished  him  to  stay 
in  the  house  during  her  absence.  Instead  of  fretting 
at  his  disappointment,  and  brooding  over  his  irksome 
confinement,  Henry  sat  down  with  Willie,  and  began 
to  amuse  him  with  stories  about  the  wind.  He  told 
him  of  a  whirlwind  or  tornado  he  had  once  heard 
about,  which  unroofed  several  buildings,  completely 
demolished  others,  and  then  cut  a  clean  path  for  itself 
through  a  forest,  for  nearly  a  mile,  prostrating  every 
tree  in  its  course,  and  tearing  up  the  ground  as  though 
an  immense  plough  had  run  through  it. 

"  Xow,"  continued  Henry,  "  I  '11  tell  you  something 
that  happened  a  year  or  two  ago,  not  a  great  way  from 
here.  There  was  a  stage-coach  crossing  the  moun- 


140  A    MIGHTY    WIND. 

tains,  one  blustering  afternoon,  with  a  number  of  pas- 
sengers. They  got  along  pretty  well,  until  they  came 
to  a  place  where  the  wind  blew  tremendously.  They 
call  it  the  bellows-pipe  of  the  mountains,  the  wind 
rushes  through  the  place  so  strong." 

"  Does  it  blow  there  all  the  time  ?"  inquired  Willie. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Henry  ;  "  but  it  blew 
like  everything,  that  day.  The  trunks  and  bundles 
on  the  top  of  the  stage  blew  off,  first.  When  the 
driver  stopped  to  go  after  them,  the  passengers  were 
so  frightened  that  they  got  out ;  and  then  the  body  of 
the  coach  was  so  light,  that  the  wind  lifted  it  right  off 
from  the  wheels." 

"  What  became  of  the  horses  ?  "  inquired  Willie. 

"  Oh,  they  were  too  heavy  to  blow  away,"  replied 
Henry  ;  "  but  they  must  have  been  pretty  well  fright- 
ened. I  suppose  some  of  the  men  held  them.  But 
there  was  a  lady  among  the  passengers  that  actually 
blew  away  into  the  fields.  'Some  men  had  to  go  after 
her,  and  help  her  back,  for  she  could  n't  stand  before 
the  wind.  The  men  lost  their  hats,  and  you  can't 
imagine  what  a  time  they  had  of  it.  They  were 
afraid  to  travel  any  further,  while  the  wind  blowed  so 


FIRM    BUILDINGS.  141 

hard.  So  they  went  to  a  tavern  that  was  near,  and 
stayed  all  night ;  and  the  next  day  they  finished  their 
journey." 

« Is  that  aU  ?  "  inquired  Willie  ;  " I  thought  you 
were  going  to  say  the  house  blew  down."  ^ 

"No,  not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  added  Hent-y. 
"  The  man  that  built  the  house,  knew  the  winds  blew 
very  hard  in  that  place,  and  I  suppose  he  made  his 
house  just  as  strong  as  he  could,  so  that  it  might  stand 
the  hardest  blows.  But  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the 
house  rocked  a  little  that  night,  after  all." 

"  Our  house  is  strong,  is  n't  it  ?  It  would  take  a 
pretty  hard  wind  to  start  it,  don't  you  think  so?" 
inquired  Willie. 

"  Yes,  thfs  house  is  firm  enough,"  replied  Henry ; 
u  we  do  n't  feel  the  wind  here  at  all,  to  speak  of.  Now 
you  keep  still  a  few  minutes,  Willie,  and  I'll  see  if  I 
can't  write  you  a  little  song  about  the  wind." 

"Oh,  do!  do!  that's  just  what  I  should  like,"  ex- 
claimed Willie. 

Henry  occasionally  amused  himself  by  writing 
rhymes,  for  which  exercise  he  had  quite  a  knack.  So 


142  THE     SONG. 

he  took  his  slate,  and  was  soon  deeply  engaged  in  his 
"  song,"  while  Willie  amused  himself  with  some  little 
experiments  on  the  power  of  wind  —  setting  a  piece 
of  wood  up  on  end,  and  then  trying  to  blow  it  over. 
£n  a  little  while,  Henry  finished  his  lines,  and  read 
them  aloud.  They  were  as  follows  : 

"TO  THE  WIND. 

"  Blow,  wind,  blow ! 
Over  the  ice  and  over  the  snow, 

Blow — blow — blow ! 
Rattle  the  windows  and  shake  the  doors, 
Whistle  down  chimney,  and  creep  up  through  the  floors ; 
Send  the  old  cod-fish*  whizzing  around, 
And  thrash  the  trees  till  they  bend  to  the  ground; 
Blow  up,  and  blow  down  —  blow  in  and  blow  out  — 
Blow  sideways,  and  crosswise,  and  blow  all  about; 
Bat  you  can't  start  our  house  —  it 's  as  firm  a§  a  rock ; 
Willie  and  I  only  laugh  at  the  shock. 
So  blow,  wind,  blow ! 
Over  the  ice  and  over  the  snow, 

Blow  —  blow  —  blow ! 

And  when  you  are  done,  then  go  —  go  —  go ! 
And  do  n't  you  come  back,  oh,  no  —  no  —  no !  " 

Willie  was  delighted  with  this  little  song,  and  made 
Henry  repeat  it  over  and  over  again,  which  he  did  in 

*  The  vane  on  the  barn. 


THE    PICTURES.  143 

a  half  singing,  half  reciting  tone.  After  hearing  it 
several  times,  Willie  was  able  to  repeat  it  himself,  and 
I  can  assure  you  he  clapped  his  hands  with  glee  the 
first  time  he  reached  the  "no — no  —  no!"  without 
tripping  over  a  single  word. 

Willie  now  teased  Henry  to  draw  some  pictures  on 
the  other  side  of  the  slate  —  for  notwithstanding  -he 
had  transferred  the  wind  song  to  his  memory,  he 
would  not  yet  risk  rubbing  it  out  fr<5m  the  slate.  So 
Henry  made  several  pictures,  such  as  a  horse,  a  cow, 
a  woman,  a  barn,  etc.  I  would  show  you  a  specimen 
or  two  of  them,  if  I  were  not  afraid  you  would  laugh 
at  them.  But  you  should  remember  that  it  is  not  for 
any  one  person  to  know  or  do  everything.  Because 
a  girl  sews,  beautifully,  you  ought  not  to  expect  that 
she  will  sing  like  a  nightingale ;  and  if  a  boy  writes 
clever  rhymes,  that  is  no  reason  why  he  ought  to 
draw  fine  pictures.  But  Henry's  rude  drawings  an- 
swered their  end.  They  pleased  Willie,  and  that  was 
all  they  were  designed  to  do. 

But  Henry  drew  one  picture  on  his  slate  that  I 
think  you  will  like  to  look  at.  It  was  a  picture  of  a 
top,  drawn  in  writing,  or  rather  a  little  poem  arranged 


144  THE    TOP. 

in  the  form  of  a  top,  which  he  had  learned  to  make 
eome  time  before.     Here  it  is : 


THE 

TOP, 
THE 
TOP, 
YOU 
SEE 
HIM 
HOP, 

8OOS  AS  YOU  LET  HIM  DROP, 

AND  BY  THE  WHIP  HE  'S  MADE  TO  SKIPJ 

HOW  STILL  HE  KEEPS  WHEN  FAST  HE  SLEEPS; 

BUT  NOW  HE  NODS,  HE  SOON  WILL  FALL, 

FOR  WHIP  ONCE  MORE  HE  SEEMS  TO 

CALL;  PUT  ON  THE  LASH  WHILE 

YET  HE  SPINS;  WHO  FASTEST 

GOES  THE  SOONEST  WINS. 

HIM    HERE  YOU  SEE, 

DRAWN  OUT  BY  ME, 

AND     ENDED 

WITH        A 
POINT- 
ED 
V 


"  Now  tell  me  another  story,"  said  Willie,  after  he 
had  looked  at  the  pictures  as  long  as  he  wished. 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  more  stories,  now,"  replied 
Henry. 

"  Yes,  do  please  to  think  of  one  more,"  persisted 
Willie. 


THE     STORY.  145 

u  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  a  story  I  learned  a  long  time 
ago,"  said  Henry.  "  It  is  this.  But  you  do  n't  like 
long  stories,  do  you?"  he  added,  as  if  a  sudden 
thought  had  struck  him. 

"  Yes,  I  do  —  I  like  long-  ones  the  best,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  Henry,  "if  I  tell  you  this 
story,  you  must  try  to  keep  awake  till  I  get  through, 
and  you  must  give  close  attention,  too,  so  as  not  to  lose 
any  of  it." 

"  I  will  —  I  do  n't  feel  sleepy  a  bit,"  eagerly  replied 
Willie. 

*  Then  I  '11  teU  you  the  story,"  said  Henry.  « It  is 
this: 

"  There  was  a  man, 
And  he  had  a  calf; 

And  that 's  half. 
He  took  it  out  of  the  stall, 
And  put  it  on  a  wall ; 

And  that 's  all." 

"  Pooh !  that  is  n't  any  story  at  all,"  cried  Willie, 
with  evident  disappointment,  after  a  pause.  "  Come, 
tell  me  a  real  story  —  you  said  you  would." 

"  Yes,  that 's  a  story,  and  a  pretty  good  one,  too,  I 
13 


146  A    SAGE    EEMARK. 

think,"  said  Henry.  "  Come,  say  it  after  me,  and  see 
if  you  do  n't  think  so/ 

Willie  repeated  the  lines  after  him,  until  he  had 
learned  them.  Though  at  first  vexed  with  the  story, 
he  now  seemed  rather  pleased  with  it. 

Willie  sat  silently  at  a  window  for  several  minutes, 
watching  the  vain  attempts  of  a  venerable  and  solemn 
cock-turkey  to  maintain  his  dignity  in  a  wind  blowing 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  or  thirty  miles  an  hour ;  a-nd 
then  he  suddenly  exclaimed :  — 

"  Henry,  I  do  n't  think  we  shall  have  to  send  you  to 
Marcus,  after  all." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  inquired  Henry,  laughing. 

"  Because  you  are  good  enough  without  going  to 
him,"  replied  Willie. 

"  Well,  that 's  a  bran-new  idea,"  added  Henry.  "  I 
should  like  to  know  how  long  that 's  been  —  ever  since 
dinner-tune  ?  " 

"No,  a  good  while  longer  than  that — I  can't  tell 
how  long,"  replied  Willie. 

Willie  had  often  heard  his  parents  speak  of  Mar- 
cus, and  knew  something  of  his  success  as  a  "boyr- 
tamer."  It  was  a  habit  with  him,  whenever  he  saw  a 


JESSIE.  147 

boy  who  did  not  come  up  to  the  mark  of  duty,  to  say 
he  "  ought  to  be  sent  to  Marcus."  One  day,  while  his 
mother  was  reproving  Henry  for  some  fault,  Willie 
followed  up  the  admonition  with  the  remark,  uttered 
with  all  soberness :  — 

"  We  shall  have  to  send  you  to  Marcus,  if  you  do  n't 
behave  better." 

Now  although  Willie  did  not  mean  any  harm,  Henry 
thought  it  was  impudent  for  such  a  little  boy  to  speak 
to  him  in  that  way ;  and  when  Mrs.  Allen,  instead  of 
reproving  her  boy,  seemed  to  repress  a  smile  with  dif- 
ficulty, Henry  felt  angry  with  both  of  them.  But  the 
matter  soon  blew  over,  and  Henry  never  thought  of  it 
again  until  this  unexpected  taking  back  of  the  offen- 
sive remark.  While  he  was  musing  over  this  gratify- 
ing proof  that  his  good  resolution  had  not  been  wholly 
in  vain,  Jessie  suddenly  made  her  appearance,  to  his 
great  joy.  She  said  she  could  stop  only  a  few  min- 
utes, but  had  run  over  because  she  was  anxious  to 
hear  from  him.  Through  the  week  she  had  felt  many 
misgivings  about  Henry ;  but  now  she  heard  from  his 
lips  that  he  had  kept  his  promise,  and  saw  by  his 
altered  appearance  the  beneficial  effect  it  had  exerted 


148  MRS.  ALLEN'S  RETURN. 

upon  him;  and  "Willie  artlessly  confirmed  it  all  by 
telling  what  a  first-rate  time  they  had  had  all  the 
afternoon,  and  repeating  the  little  song  Henry  had 
written  for  him.  It  was  a  happy  moment  to  Jessie  ; 
and  when  Henry  promised  her  in  the  entry,  as  she 
was  about  leaving,  that  he  would  keep  on  in  that  same 
way  until  she  saw  him  again,  she  went  home  with  a 
lighter  heart  than  she  had  before  known  for  several 
weeks. 

When  Mrs.  Allen  got  home,  she  found  the  tea-kettle 
boiling,  the  table  ready  for  supper,  and  the  house  in  as 
good  order  as  when  she  left  it  —  three  things  which 
she  hardly  dared  to  expect.  She  was  still  further  sur- 
prised, when  Willie,  at  the  first  opportunity,  com- 
menced telling  a  very  long  story  about  what  had  been 
going  on  at  home  through  the  afternoon.  "  Well,"  she 
thought  to  herself,  "  Henry  can  be  a  good  boy,  when 
he  pleases  to  be." 


CHAPTER  Vin. 


SABBATH    LESSONS. 

TESSIE  had  a 
small,  old-fash- 
ioned miniature 
in  her  trunk,  at 
which  she  often 
gazed  intently 
and  sadly,  in  her 
hours  of  retire- 
ment. It  was  a 
likeness  of  a  young  man  of  pleasing  features  and 
apparent  intelligence  —  one  who  was  evidently  on 
good  terms  with  himself  and  the  world,  and  who  had 
known  little  of  the  rough  experiences  of  life.  There 
were  very  sad  associations  connected  with  this  picture, 
13* 


150  A    LIFE -HISTORY. 

in  Jessie's  mind.     She  never  could  look  at  it  without 
recalling  the  lines  of  the  poet  — 

"  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  of  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these — it  might  have  been." 

That  young  man  was  the  only  son  of  the  most  pros- 
perous farmer  in  all  that  region.  Foolishly  petted  by 
his  parents,  he  was  not  required  to  perform  any  hard 
work,  because  he  did  not  like  to  do  it.  For  the  same 
reason,  he  left  school  and  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  edu- 
cating himself,  before  he  was  fourteen  years  old. 
After  an  idle,  unprofitable  and  not  perfectly  blameless 
youth,  he  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  become  a 
merchant,  and  so  his  father  set  him  up  in  business  in 
a  large  town  twenty  or  thirty  miles  distant.  It  was  at 
this  period  that  the  miniature  was  painted,  for  a  young 
lady  who  shortly  after  became  his  wife.  For  a  while 
he  flourished ;  but  owing  to  his  loose  habits,  and  his 
want  of  business  training,  he  soon  became  a  bankrupt, 
his  father  being  the  principal  sufferer.  Within  a  year 
after  this,  he  followed  both  of  his  parents  to  the  grave. 
The  fine  farm  thus  came  into  his  possession,  but  it  was 
heavily  mortgaged  for  debt,  owing  to  his  own  failure, 


JESSIE'S    FATHER.  151 

and  to  the  fact  that  his  father,  during  the  latter  part  of 
his  life,  had  used  intoxicating  liquors  to  excess,  to  the 
injury  of  his  business  and  property.  The  son  followed 
but  too  swiftly  in  the  steps  of  the  father,  emulating, 
not  his  many  years  of  honest  and  prosperous  toil,  but 
only  the  sad  errors  by  which  he  embittered  his  last 
days.  He  became  a  fast-bound  victim  of  strong  drink. 
He  saw  his  patrimony  slowly  melting  away,  and  his 
family  coming  to  want.  The  pinching  hand  of  poverty 
at  length  came  upon  them,  and  he  felt  ashamed  to 
look  his  neighbors  in  the  face,  so  bitter  were  his  self- 
reproaches.  He  made  one  or  two  feeble  attempts  to 
reform,  and  then  died  as  the  fool  dieth.  He  was  over- 
taken by  a  dreadful  snow-storm  while  intoxicated,  and 
the  next  day  was  found  stiff  in  death,  with  a  jug  of 
rum  by  his  side. 

Such  was  'the  sad  history  of  Jessie's  father,  whose 
tragic  death  occurred  only  about  two  months  previous 
to  the  time  of  which  I  am  now  writing.  No  wonder 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes,  as  she  gazed  on  the  handsome 
face  of  the  miniature,  and  thought  how  different  might 
have  been  the  life  and  destiny  of  the  one  who  sat  for 
it.  She  saw  in  that  capacious  brow,  in  that  mild  and 


152  SAD    THOUGHTS. 

thoughtful  eye,  and  in  those  fine  features,  indications 
of  capacities  and  feelings,  that  had  never  been  devel- 
oped. Oh,  how  mournful  was  it  to  contrast  these 
things  with  the  coarse,  bloated  and  besotted  features 
which  relentless  memory  always  called  up  at  the  men- 
tion of  father ! 

Such  thoughts  as  these  were  passing  through  Jes- 
sie's mind,  one  Sabbath  morning,  as  she  sat  in  her 
room,  awaiting  the  signal  to  start  for  church.  The 
weather  was  dull  and  drizzly,  and  her  feelings  were 
so  much  in  sympathy  with  it,  that  she  could  scarcely 
keep  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  She  thought  of  her 
father,  whose  miniature  she  held  before  her;  of  her 
mother,  whose  health  was  quite  poor,  as  a  letter  re- 
ceived a  few  days  before  had  informed  her;  of  her 
brother  Sam,  in  his  gloomy  prison  cell,  who  had  not 
taken  the  slightest  notice  of  the  affectionate  letters  she 
had  sent  him ;  of  Henry,  with  his  peculiar  trials  and 
dangers ;  and  of  Benny,  too,  on  whose  little  grave  the 
snows  were  for  the  first  time  melting.  Everything 
seemed  to  present  its  dark  side  to  her,  and  she  felt  as 
though  she  could  spend  the  day  in  weeping. 

It  was  a  rule  in  Mrs.  Page's  house  that  every  one 


GOING    TO     CHURCH  153 

should  attend  church  regularly  on  the  Sabbath,  unless 
prevented  by  sickness  or  other  sufficient  cause.  Per- 
haps I  should  say  it  had  been  a  rule,  for  it  had  now 
become  a  custom  —  a  habit  —  a  matter  of  mutual 
agreement,  rather  than  of  law.  Oscar  chafed  a  little 
against  the  regulation,  when  he  first  came  into  the 
family ;  but  finding  that  it  would  not  be  bent  to  suit 
him,  he  submitted  to  it,  and  now  had  no  desire  to 
absent  himself  from  the  house  of  public  worship.  The 
distance  from  Mrs.  Page's  to  the  church  was  about  a 
mile,  and  the  family  generally  walked,  unless  the 
weather  was  bad.  On  the  morning  to  which  refer- 
ence has  been  made,  the  female  portion  rode  to  church, 
and  Marcus  and  the  boys  walked. 

The  sermon  which  the  good  pastor,  Mr.  Merrill, 
preached  that  morning,  seemed  intended  expressly  for 
Jessie.  It  was  exactly  adapted  to  the  frame  of  rnind 
in  which  she  went  up  to  the  house  of  God.  The 
course  of  thought  was  so  plain  and  simple,  that  I  think 
I  can  tell  you  about  it  so  that  even  the  youngest 
reader  can  understand  it,  and  feel  some  interest  in  it. 
This  was  the  text,  and  a  sweet  one  it  is :  —  "  Cast  thy 
burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  sustain  thee." 


154  THE     SERMON. 

You  will  find  it  in  the  twenty-second  verse  of  the  fifty- 
fifth  Psalm.  The  pastor  said  that  everybody  whp 
comes  into  the  world,  brings  a  burden  with  him.  The 
young  and  the  old,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  high  and 
the  low,  the  wise  and  the  ignorant,  the  virtuous  and 
the  wicked,  all  have  their  burdens.  These  burdens 
have  various  names,  such  as  temptations,  trials,  disap- 
pointments, regrets,  sorrows,  sins,  etc. ;  but  there  is  one 
general  name  under  which  they  may  all  be  included, 
and  that  is,  unhappiness. 

The  next  thing  the  preacher  noticed,  was,  that  we 
are. all  running  about  trying  to  get  rid  of  our  burdens. 
We  don't  want  to  be  unhappy.  Some  try  to  laugh 
away  their  sorrows.  They  may  succeed  with  a  few 
of  the  lighter  ones,  but  there  are  others  too  far  down 
in  the  heart  to  be  reached  by  laughter.  Others  mope, 
and  cry,  and  fret  over  their  troubles,  and  so  make 
them  worse.  Others  travel  to  new  scenes,  or  plunge 
into  new  cares,  or  yield  themselves  up  to  their  pas- 
sions and  desires,  to  get  rid  of  the  burden,  but  in  vain. 
It  only  grows  heavier,  instead  of  lighter.  And  then 
the  pastor  repeated  a  German  fable  about  a  man  who 
had  a  frightful  goblin  in  his  house,  which  haunted  him 


LOSING    OUR    BURDENS.  155 

day  and  night.  After  trying  every  way  he  could  think 
of  to  get  rid  of  the  goblin,  and  all  in  vain,  he  shut  up 
his  house,  and  set  it  on  fire,  so  that  the  tormentor 
might  roast  within,  and  flung  himself  into  the  saddle, 
and  galloped  away,  homeless  and  pennyless,  but  merry 
in  the  thought  that  he  was  at  last  rid  of  the  demon 
that  made  his  life  miserable.  So  after  galloping  a 
while,  he  turned  round  to  see  if  his  house  burned  mer- 
rily, and  what  was  it  he  saw  ?  The  house  burned, 
indeed,  but  the  goblin,  there  he  sat,  cowered  behind 
the  rider,  on  his  saddle's  cantle !  "  And  do  you  know," 
inquired  the  pastor,  "  what  is  the  goblin's  name  ?  His 
name  is  Sorrow." 

But,  continued  the- preacher,  there  is  a  way,  and 
only  one  way,  to  get  rid  of  this  pressing  burden,  this 
terrible  goblin  in  our  hearts.  It  is  pointed  out  in  the 
text.  Bring  all  your  cares  and  sorrows  and  cast  them 
upon  the  Lord,  and  he  will  sustain  you.  He  does  not 
promise  to  remove  them  at  once ;  but  if  he  does  not 
take  them  away  now,  he  will  give  you  strength  to  bear 
them,  so  that  they  will  seem  light.  We  must  not 
expect  to  escape  all  pain,  disappointment  and  trial  in 
this  world.  It  would  not  be  good  for  us,  if  we  sho^* " 


156  LOSING    OUB    BURDENS. 

But  we  can  be  happy,  in  spite  of  these,  if  we  cast  our 
burden  upon  the  Lord,  for  He  careth  for  us.  The 
only  truly  happy  people  are  those  who  have  done  this. 
The  Christian  can  sing,  in  his  darkest  hour : 

"  I  '11  drop  my  burden  at  His  feet, 
And  bear  a  song  away." 

The  concluding  portion  of  the  sermon  was  devoted 
to  an  explanation  of  the  way  in  which  we  can  cast  our 
burdens  on  the  Lord.  The  preacher  said  we  must  do 
just  what  the  little  child  does,  when  any  trouble 
befalls  it,  and  it  runs  crying  to  its  mother.  It  believes 
its  mother  can  and  will  relieve  it.  That  is  faith.  It 
pours  out  its  little  complaints  and  desires.  That  is 
prayer.  It  is  ready,  if  it  goes  in  a  proper  spirit,  to 
follow  its  mother's  directions.  That  is  submission. 
So,  if  we  would  cast  our  burdens  upon  the  Lord,  we 
must  believe  in  His  promises,  and  ask  Him  to  sustain 
us,  and  submit  ourselves  to  His  will. 

After  the  morning  service,  Jessie  attended  the  Sab- 
bath school,  as  was  her  custom.  She  was  a  member 
of  a  Bible  class  of  young  ladies,  and  took  much  inter- 
est in  its  weekly  lessons.  The  subject  of  the  lesson, 


PEAYEB    A    DUTY.  157 

on  this  Sabbath,  was  prayer.  The  point  of  inquiry- 
was  simply  why  we  ought  to  pray,  the  manner  in 
which  the  duty  should  be  performed  being  reserved 
for  another  lesson.  Each  member  of  the  class  had 
been  requested  to  note  down  on  a  slip  of  paper  such 
reasons  as  she  could  think  of  for  offering  prayer  to 
God,  and  most  of  them  had  done  so.  The  teacher 
called  upon  one  of  the  younger  pupils  first,  to  give  a 
reason  for  believing  prayer  is  a  duty. 

"  Because  God  commands  it,  in  the  Bible,"  replied 
the  girl,  and  she  quoted  several  texts,  in  proof  of  the 
assertion. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  teacher,  "  God  requires  it,  and  I 
am  glad  you  have  given  this  as  the  first  reason,  for  it 
is  sufficient  to  make  the  duty  imperative,  if  there  were 
no  other.  Can  any  of  you  think  of  any  other  texts 
Which  inculcate  the  duty  of  prayer  ?  " 

A  number  of  additional  passages  from  the  Bible 
were  repeated,  and  then  another  pupil  was  asked  to    . 
«£ve  a  second  reason  why  prayer  is  a  duty. 

"  Because  we  are  dependent  upon  God  for  every- 
thing, and  it  seems  proper  that  we  should  ask  Him  to 
14 


158  DEPENDENCE    ON    GOD. 

supply  our  wants,  just  as  a  child  asks  his  father  for 
what  he  wants,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  good,"  replied  the  teacher.  "  Nothing  is 
more  natural  than  that  we  should  pray  to  God.  "We 
cannot  take  a  step,  or  draw  a  breath,  and  our  hearts 
cannot  beat  for  an  instant,  without  Him ;  and  how 
strange  it  is  that  any  of  us  should  ever  rise  up  in  the 
morning  or  lie  down  at  night,  without  asking  Him  to 
preserve  us  !  What  should  we  think  of  a  little  child 
who  had  a  very  kind  father,  and  yet  never  took  any 
notice  of  him,  —  never  showed  any  gratitude  for  his 
goodness,  never  asking  him  for  any  favor,  and  never 
even  spoke  to  him  ?  And  yet  this  is  the  way  in 
which  many  people  treat  their  heavenly  Father."  • 

The  teacher  then  called  upon  another  scholar  for  a 
reason  in  favor  of  prayer,  who  gave  the  following : 

"  We  ought  to  pray,  because  we  are  sinners,  and 
need  forgiveness." 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the  teacher,  "  that  is  another  good 
argument  for  prayer.  "  We  are  not  only  dependent 
upon  our  heavenly  Father  for  everything  we  need, 
but  we  have  rebelled  against  Him,  and  we  feel  that 
we  deserve  to  be  punished.  Now  if  we  have  not 


TOO    OLD    TO    PRAY.  159 

enough  gratitude  to  make  us  thank  Him  for  the  thou- 
sands of  blessings  He  "bestows,  one  would  suppose  that 
we  should  fear  Him  enough  to  ask  Him  to  forgive 
our  sins,  and  save  us  from  their  consequences.  I 
once  asked  a  boy  about  a  dozen  years  old,  if  he  ever 
prayed.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  afraid  even  to 
talk  about  such  a  thing,  and  then  replied,  '  No,  but  \ 
used  to  when  I  was  a  little  boy.'  f  Why  do  n't  you 
pray  now  ? '  I  asked.  '  Oh,  I  left  off  a  good  while  ago,' 
he  said.  'Why  did  you  leave  off?'  I  inquired.  His 
lips  quivered  a  moment,  and  then  he  replied, '  Because 
I  thought  I  was  too  old.'  '  Too  old  to  pray ! '  I  ex- 
claimed ;  '  why,  that  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever 
heard  of.  I  thought  the  older  people  were,  the  more 
they  needed  to  pray.  They  certainly  have  more 
favors  to  be  thankful  for,  and  more  sins  to  be  forgiven, 
as  they  advance  in  years ;  and  if  that  is  the  case, 
do  n't  you  think  they  need  to  pray  more  than  they  did 
when  they  were  young  ?  When  did  you  stop  pray- 
ing?' I  inquired.  He  said  he  could  not  remember 
exactly,  but  he  thought  it  was  about  two  years  pre- 
vious to  that  time.  '  Well,'  I  said, '  have  you  received 
any  blessings  from  God,  during  these  two  years  ?'  He 


160  ASHAMED    TO    PRAT. 

said  he  had,  a  great  many.  '  And  have  you  committed 
any  sins  during  that  period  ? '  I  continued.  '  Yes,'  he 
replied,  '  I  suppose  I  sin  every  day.'  I  asked  him  if 
he  did  n't  think  he  was  exposed  to  more  temptations, 
at  that  time,  than  he  was  two  years  before.  I  suppose 
he  had  never  thought  much  about  that,  for  he  did  not 
give  me  any  decided  answer.  I  told  him  I  thought  it 
was  usually  the  case  with  the  young,  that  their  temp- 
tations to  do  wrong  increased  very  rapidly  every  year, 
until  they  reached  maturity ;  and  then  I  put  to  him 
the  question,  whether,  with  all  these  increased  bless- 
ings, and  sins,  and  temptations,  he  was  not  under  much 
greater  obligations  to  pray,  at  that  time,  than  he  was 
two  years  before.  And  what  kind  of  an  answer  do 
you  suppose  he  gave  me  ?  Why,  he  said  all  the  boys 
would  laugh  at  him,  if  they  knew  he  prayed !  I  felt 
almost  disheartened,  when  he  said  that.  Only  think  of 
a  boy  twelve  years  old  giving  such  a  ridiculous  excuse 
as  that  for  treating  his  Maker  with  utter  neglect !  But 
I  did  not  let  him  hide  himself  long  behind  such  a 
miserable  refuge.  '  What,'  said  I,  '  is  it  possible  you 
are  ashamed  to  say  any  thing  to  your  best  Friend,  for 
fear  a  few  thoughtless  boys  will  laugh  at  you  ?  And 


CLIMAX     OP    MEANNESS.  161 

is  it  possible  you  can  make  such  a  confession  without 
hiding  your  face  in  shame  ?  Why,  it  seems  to  me,  if 
you  ever  did  a  thing  in  this  world  that  you  ought  to 
be  heartily  ashamed  of,  it  was  giving  up  prayer  to 
God.  I  do  n't  think  any  body  can  do  a  much  meaner 
thing  than  that,  and  instead  of  being  ashamed  of  pray- 
ing, I  wonder  that  everybody  is  not  ashamed  to  live 
without  prayer.'  Then  I  said  it  was  no  matter  if  the 
whole  world  laughed  at  us  —  that  should  not  deter  us 
from  what  we  know  to  be  our  duty.  But  I  told  him  I 
knew  '  all  the  boys '  would  not  laugh  at  him  for  pray- 
ing, and  that  even  the  few  foolish  ones  who  did  laugh, 
would  secretly  respect  him  in  their  hearts  for  doing 
his  duty.  Now,  Jessie,  can  you  give  us  a  fourth  rea- 
son why  we  ought  to  pray  ?" 

"  "We  know  we  ought  to  pray,"  said  Jessie,  "  because 
our  feelings  and  conscience  tell  us  so.  There  is  a 
voice  within,  a  sort  of  instinct,  that  urges  us  to  pray. 
This  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  even  the  most  degraded 
heathen  offer  up  prayers  to  their  idols.  It  is  said 
there  never  was  a  nation  or  religion  that  did  not  have 
some  form  of  prayer.  Of  course,  if  prayer  is  so  uni- 
versal, it  must  be  a  dictate  of  nature." 
14* 


162  PRAYERS    OF    INFIDELS. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  teacher ;  "  and  this  is  not 
only  true  of  nations,  but  of  individuals.  I  doubt 
whether  any  person  ever  lived  to  mature  age,  who 
never  offered  a  prayer  at  some  period  of  his  life,  in 
some  way  or  other.  Let  some  terrible  calamity  sud- 
denly threaten  even  the  most  abandoned  man,  and 
how  quickly  does  he  begin  to  pray!  Even  infidels 
cannot  repress  this  natural  instinct  of  prayer.  It  is 
said  that  Thomas  Paine,  when  in  danger  of  shipwreck, 
called  loudly  on  God  for  mercy ;  and  Lord  Herbert, 
the  celebrated  deist,*  after  he  had  written  a  book 
against  Christianity,  actually  prayed  to  God  to  tell  him 
whether  he  should  publish  it.  I  have  even  read  an 
argument  written  by  an  avowed  infidel,  trying  to 
prove  that  it  was  right  and  consistent  for  an  atheist  to 
pray  to  God.  He  maintained  that  if  there  were  only 
one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  there  is  a  Deity  who 
hears  prayer,  and  will  reward  or  punish  us  for  our 

*  A  Deist  is  one  who  rejects  the  Bible,  but  believes  in  a 
Supreme  Being.  By  an  Atheist,  is  commonly  understood  one 
who  professes  to  believe  there  is  no  God;  but  there  are  very 
few  if  any  real  atheists.  We  read  that  "  the  fool  hath  said  in 
his  heart,  There  is  no  God;  "  but  he  does  not,  he  cannot  believe 
it.  The  term  lufldel  is  applied  to  both  atheists  and  deists. 


PBATEE    BRINGS    BLESSINGS.         163 

• 

conduct,  it  was  a  matter  of  policy  to  call  upon  Him, 
rather  than  run  the  risk  of  offending  Him." 

"  Prayer  brings  down  blessings,"  was  given  by  an- 
other pupil  as  a  fifth  reason  why  we  ought  to  pray ; 
and  in  proof,  she  cited  several  examples  from  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it,  then,  that  some  people 
who  never  pray  receive  so  many  blessings  ?  "  inquired 
the  teacher. 

"  It  is  because  God  is  so  good,  that  he  often  bestows 
blessings  when  they  are  not  asked  for,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  teacher.  "  The  Lord  is 
good  to  all ;  He  is  kind  unto  the  unthankful  and  the 
evil ;  but  He  often  bestows  special  favors  in  answer  to 
prayer.  His  choicest  blessings  are  spiritual  ones,  and 
these  He  usually  gives  only  in  answer  to  prayer. 
They  are  offered  to  us  conditionally.  We  must  ask 
for  them  if  we  want  them." 

Another  reason  was  now  called  for,  but  the  class 
seemed  to  have  exhausted  the  theme,  and  no  one 
responded.  The  teacher  then  continued : 

"  Supposing  it  were  possible  to  overthrow  all  the 
arguments  that  have  been  mentioned,  there  is  one 


164  EXAMPLES     OF    THE    GOOD. 

• 

more  that  would  still  have  great  weight  with  me.  It 
is  this  —  prayer  exerts  a  good  influence  on  our  hearts. 
It  improves  our  temper,  and  disposition.  It  makes  us 
better  children,  better  parents,  better  men  and  women. 
It  seems  as  if  God  rewarded  us  for  the  very  act  of 
coming  to  Him  in  prayer,  even  when  He  does  not 
think  it  best  to  grant  our  petition.  It  appears  to  me 
that  if  this  were  the  only  benefit  we  derived  from 
prayer,  we  should  be  very  unwise  to  give  it  up. 

"  Can  any  of  you  think  of  another  argument  in 
favor  of  this  duty  ?  "  inquired  the  teacher.  No  one 
replying,  she  continued :  "  The  fact  that  the  best 
people  that  have  ever  lived  have  always  been  praying 
people,  is,  I  think,  a  strong  argument  in  favor  of 
prayer.  The  Bible  is  full  of  examples  of  this  kind, 
and  so  is  all  history.  The  purest  men  that  the  world 

has  ever  known,  and  those  that  have  done  the  most  for 

«* 
mankind,  have  been  men  who  communed  with  God. 

I  should  like  to  have  the  members  of  the  class  name 
some  examples,  if  they  can  think  of  any." 

Moses,  Samuel,  David,  Daniel,  Paul,  and  several 
other  Bible  saints,  were  mentioned  by  different 
scholars. 


STEIKING    EXAMPLES.  165 

"Can  you  think  of  any  striking  examples  besides 
those  that  are  recorded  in  the  Bible  ? "  inquired  the 
teacher. 

"  Washington,"  suggested  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the"  teacher,  "  Washington  is  an 
illustration  of  this  truth,  from  our  own  history.  It  ia 
well  known  that  he  was  a  man  of  prayer.  And  so 
was  Alfred  the  Great,  the  wisest  and  best  ruler  Eng- 
land ever  had.  We  are  told  that  he  devoted  one  third 
of  his  time  to  study  and  devotion.  The  same  rule 
holds  good  even  among  the  heathen.  Socrates  was 
one  of  the  purest  of  the  Greek  philosophers,  and 
though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  Scriptures,  he  rebuked 
those  who  did  not  look  to  God  in  prayer  for  guidance 
and  assistance.  Now  if  such  men  as  these,  and  thou- 
sands of  others  of  the  wisest  and  best  that  ever  lived, 

thought  it  a  duty  and  a  privilege  to  pray,  it  seems 

QP 
to  me  their  example  ought  to  have  some  influence 

on  us." 

The  teacher  then  reviewed  the  arguments  for 
prayer  that  had  been  brought  forward,  requesting 
each  scholar  to  note  them  down  in  the  following  form 
and  order : 


166  ANOTHER    MOTIVE. 

"WHY  WE  OUGHT  TO  PRAY." 

"  1.  Because  God  commands  it. 

"  2.  Because  we  are  dependent  upon  Him. 

"  3.  Because  we  are  sinners  against  Him. 

"  4.  Because  instinct  prompts  us  to  pray. 

"  5.  Because  God  answers  prayer. 

"  6.  Because  prayer  benefits  the  heart. 

"  7.  Because  the  wisest  and  best  men  pray." 

The  lesson  was  one  of  much  interest  to  Jessie.  She 
had  learned  something  of  the  value  of  prayer  during 
the  past  few  months.  She  had  often  secretly  poured 
her  troubles  into  the  gracious  ear  that  is  ever  ready  to 
hear,  and  had  found  comfort  in  doing  so.  Her  heart 
warmly  responded  to  all  the  motives  to  pray  that  had 
been  mentioned,  and  but  for  her  diffidence  in  alluding 
to  her  own  religious  feelings,  she  would  have  sug- 
gested an  eighth  motive,  viz.,  "  Because  it  is  delightful 
to  pray." 

Before  retiring  at  night,  Jessie  copied  into  her  jour- 
nal the  foregoing  list  of  motives  for  prayer,  adding  the 
eighth.  She  then  knelt  down,  as  was  her  daily  habit, 
and  offered  to  her  Maker  the  homage  of  a  grateful 
heart. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

KAINY-DAY    DIVERSIONS. 

dull  Sabbath  morning  mentioned  in  the  last 
chapter,  proved  the  beginning  of  one  of  those  long 
and  dreary  storms,  not  unusual  in  the  spring  of  the 
year.  The  sun  did  not  show  himself  for  half  an  hour 
during  the  whole  week,  but  snow,  sleet,  rain,  drizzle, 
high  winds,  and  leaden  skies,  had  everything  their 
own  way.  The  old  people  said  it  was  the  "  equinoc- 
tial," or  "  line  "  storm  ;  and  their  opinion  was  not  in 
the  least  disturbed,  if  Marcus  suggested  that  many 
scientific  men  believed  the  notion  of  such  a  storm  to 
be  a  popular  delusion.  It  certainly  was  not  a  very 
auspicious  time  to  express  any  doubts  on  this  point  — 
in  the  midst  of  a  seven  days'  storm,  happening  in 
the  very  week  of  the  equinox ;  so  Marcus,  without 
seriously  doubting  that  the  men  of  science  were  right, 


168  N.O  THING    TO     DO. 

concluded  it  were  wiser  to  postpone  any  argument  on 
the  subject  until  a  dryer  season. 

The  younger  members  of  Mrs.  Page's  family  found 
little  chance  for  out-door  sports,  during  this  tedious 
storm.  Still,  the  time  did  not  pass  heavily  with  them. 
All  but  Kate  and  Otis  had  their  regular  daily  work  to 
perform  ;  but  as  it  was  divided  among  several  pairs  of 
hands,  it  was  not  very  arduous,  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  Jessie's  work,  however,  was  an  exception,  for 
she  insisted  upon  devoting  most  of  her  time,  when  re- 
leased from  study,  to  household  duties.  On  Wednes- 
day and  Saturday  afternoons,  Marcus  frequently 
invited  Oscar  and  Ronald  to  help  him  about  some 
extra  job  or  other ;  but  all  such  jobs  were  now 
finished  up,  as  far  as  they  could  be  until  the  season 
should  open  for  out-door  operations.  The  farming 
tools  had  been  put  in  complete  order,  the  potatoes 
sorted  for  planting,  the  cellar  cleaned  out,  and  when 
"Wednesday  afternoon  came,  with  a  pouring  rain,  Mar- 
cus told  the  boys  they  must  amuse  themselves  as  best 
they  could,  as  he  had  nothing  for  them  to  do. 

For  awhile,  the  state  of  things  was  rather  dull 
in-doors  as  well  as  out.  Marcus  and  Oscar  were 


ALLITERATION.  169 

reading.  Elate  sat  down  to  practise  a  music  lesson, 
but  the  notes  which  her  fingers  called  forth  were  so 
dull  and  spiritless,  that  she  soon  abandoned  the  at- 
tempt. Otis  sat  looking  dreamily  out  of  the  window, 
towards  the  distant  hills  just  visible  through  the  rain. 
Ronald,  after  trying  in  vain  to  get  somebody  to  go  out 
to  the  barn  and  "  have  some  fun,"  went  alone ;  but  he 
evidently  did  not  find  what  he  went  after,  for  he  soon 
returned,  repeating,  on  the  way,  a  queer  alliterative 
exercise  in  rapid  pronunciation  he  had  recently 
learned  for  his  own  amusement.  It  was  as  follows, 
only  each  line  was  repeated  in  four  different  ways,  as 
indicated  at  the  beginning : 

*  Andrew  Airpump  asked  his  aunt  her  ailment, 

Did  Andrew,  etc., 

If  Andrew,  etc., 

Where  is  the,  etc. 
Billy  Button  bought  a  buttered  biscuit, 

Did,  etc, 

Captain  Crackskull  cracked  a  catchpole's  coxcomb. 
Davy  Doldrum  dreamt  he  drove  a  dragon. 
Enoch  Elkrig  cat  an  empty  eggshell. 
Francis  Fripple  flogged  a  Frenchman's  filly. 
Gaffer  Gil  pin  got  a  goose  and  gander. 
Humphrey  Hunchback  had  a  hundred  hedgehogs. 
Inigo  Impey  itched  for  an  Indian  image. 
Jumping  Jackey  jeered  a  jesting  juggler 
15 


170  ALLITERATION. 

Kimbo  Kemble  kicked  his  kinsman's  kettle. 
Lanky  Lawrence  lost  his  lass  and  lobster. 
Matthew  Mendlegs  missed  a  mangled  monkey 
Neddy  Noodle  nipped  his  neighbor's  nutmeg. 
Oliver  Oglethorpe  ogled  an  owl  and  oyster. 
Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  peppers. 
Quixote  Quixite  quizzed  a  queerish  quidbox. 
Rawdy  Rumpus  rode  a  rawboned  racer. 
Sammy  Smellie  smelt  a  smell  of  small  coal. 
Tiptoe  Tommy  turned  a  Turk  for  twopence. 
Uncle  Usher  urged  an  ugly  urdliin. 
Villiam  Voedy  viped  his  vig  and  vaistcoat. 
Walter  Waddle  won  a  walking  wager. 
X  Y  Z  have  made  my  brains  to  crack  O. 
X  smokes,  Y  snuffs,  Z  chews  too  strong  tobacco. 
Though  oft  by  X  Y  Z  much  lore  is  taught, 
Still  Peter  Piper  beats  them  all  to  nought." 

Ronald  kept  on  repeating  these  very  sensible  lines 
after  he  had  entered  the  house ;  but  before  he  had  fin- 
ished "  Captain  Crackskull,"  he  was  interrupted  by 
Marcus,  who  said :  — 

"  Ronald,  if  you  are  going  through  with  that  long 
yarn,  I  think  you  had  better  take  it  back  to  the  barn 
with  you,  and  reel  it  off  to  the  cows." 

"  I  can  say  it  right  straight  through,  to  X  Y  Z," 
said  Ronald. 

"  Well,  we  '11  take  your  word  for  it  —  we  wont  ask 
you  to  prove  it,"  replied  Marcus. 


UNIVOCALIC    VERSES.  171 

"  What  do  you  call  it,  when  all  the  words  in  a  line 
begin  with  the  same  letter?"  inquired  Ronald. 

"When  two  or  more  words,  near  together,  com- 
mence with  the  same  letter,  it  is  called  alliteration" 
replied  Marcus.  "  It  is  what  the  poet  calls  '  apt  allit- 
eration's artful  aid.' " 

"  I  've  got  a  curious  specimen  of  alliteration,  that  I 
found  in  an  old  newspaper,"  said  Kate;  and  from  a 
small  roll  of  paper  clippings  which  she  had  in  her 
pocket  she  drew  forth  the  curiosity.  It  contained  five 
little  poems,  or  "  univocalic  verses,"  as  they  were 
called,  each  of  which  contained  only  one  of  the  vowels. 
The  following  is  a  specimen.  It  is  on  the  fall  of  Eve, 
and  contains  no  vowel  but  e,  as  will  be  observed ; 

"  Eve,  Eden's  Empress,  needs  defended  be : 
The  Serpent  greets  her  when  she  seeks  the  tree ; 
Serene,  she  sees  the  speckled  tempter  creep ; 
Gentle  he  seems  —  perversest  schemer  deep  — 
Yet  endless  pretexts,  ever  fresh  prefers, 
Perverts  her  senses,  revels  when  she  errs, 
Sneers  when  she  weeps,  regrets,  repents  she  fell  ; 
When  deep  revenged,  reseeks  the  nether  hell! " 

"  That  is  not  alliteration,  exactly,"  observed  Marcus, 
"as  the  words  do  not  begin  with  the  same  letter.  I 


.172  TASK    POETRY 

should  call  it  a  sort  of  'task  poetry.'  By  the  way, 
Kate,  did  you  ever  see  a  little  task  poem  that  old 
George  Herbert  wrote  ?  "  and  taking  down  a  volume 
from  the  book-case,  he  turned  to  the  following  lines,  in 
•which  it  will  be  seen,  the  rhyming  words  are  obtained 
by  dropping  a  letter  from  the  last  word  of  the  preced- 
ing line : 


"  Inclose  me  still,  for  fear  I  start, 
Be  to  me  rather  sharp  and  tart, 
Than  let  me  want  thy  hand  and  art. 

"Such  sharpness  shows  the  sweetest  friend, 
Such  cuttings  rather  heal  than  rend, 
And  such  beginnings  touch  their  end." 


Marcus  turned  to  a  still  more  curious  specimen  of 
task  poetry,  in  the  same  book.  It  was  a  couplet, 
formed  of  three  lines  of  the  fragments  of  words,  so 
that  those  of  the  middle  one  read  with  either  of  the 
other  two.  Here  it  is : 

cur-       f-          w-  d-         dis-          and  p- 

A        -sed    -iend      -rought    -eath       -ease  -am. 

bles-       fr-         b-  br-         and  ag- 


A    GAME    PROPOSED.  173 

The  couplet  is  to  be  read  thus-: 

"  A  cursed  fiend  wrought  death,  disease  and  pain  ; 
A  blessed  friend  brought  breath  and  ease  again." 

"  Come,  all  hands,  I  move  that  we  have  a  game  of 
*  thread-paper  poetry  '  —  we  have  n't  played  it  for  a 
long  time,"  said  Kate. 

"  What  sort  of  a  game  is  that  ?  "  inquired  Jessie, 
who  had  but  just  come  in  from  the  kitchen,  and  sat 
down  to  sew. 

"  Why,  did  n't  you  ever  play  it  ?  "  inquired  Kate, 
with  surprise.  "  It 's  a  real  good  game,  if  you  have 
the  right  sort  of  players.  The  first  player  takes  a 
slip  of  paper,  and  writes  a  line  of  poetry  upon  it  — 
original  or  selected,  just  as  he  pleases.  Then  he  folds 
the  paper  so  as  to  hide  the  line,  but  he  tells  the  next 
player  what  the  last  word  is,  and  he  must  write  a  line 
to  rhyme  with  it,  and  another  /line  beside ;  and  so 
they  pass  it  around,  until  they  have  got  enough,  and 
then  it  is  read  aloud.  It  makes  great  sport,  some- 
times, I  can  assure  you." 

The  company  generally  assented  to  Kate's  proposal, 

and  it  was  agreed,  at  the  outset,  that  each  line  should 
15* 


0 
174  THREAD-PAPER    POETRY. 

contain  eight  syllables,  every  other  one  accented,  com- 
mencing with  the  second.  No  other  restriction  was 
laid  upon  any  one.  Jessie  was  selected  to  commence 
the  play,  and  she  wrote  the  following  line : 

" How  dark  the  day!  how  drear  the  scene! " 

Doubling  over  the  paper,  she  passed  it  to  Oscar, 
and  thus  it  went  round  the  circle  twice,  Marcus  finally 
winding  up  the  poem  with  an  extra  rhyme,  to  give  it 
a  fitting  conclusion.  He  then  unfolded  the  paper,  and 
read  the  contents  aloud.  Here  is  a  copy  of  it.  The 
figures  indicate  where  it  passed  from  one  hand  to  an- 
other : 

1.  How  dark  the  day!  how  drear  the  scene! 

2.  Now  I  do  think  you  're  real  mean 
To  get  me  into  such  a  scrape! 

3.  I  sing  the  glories  of  the  grape, 
Delicious  fruit,  so  rich  and  nice. 

4.  Oh,  I  can  do  it  in  a  trice  — 

My  lines  are  written  —  here  they  are, 

5.  Shining  like  evening's  brightest  star, 
Or  like  the  fire-bug's  milder  ray! 

6.  This  is  a  very  rainy  day, 

The  walking,  it  is  dreadful  bad. 

7.  To  find  a  rhyme  I  'm  always  glad, 
80  this  I  write,  and  pass 't  along. 


CENTO    VEKSES.  175 

8.  I  vow,  it  is  a  curious  song, 

All  shreds,  and  patchwork,  and  so  forth. 

9.  This  horrid  weather  makes  me  cough  — 
I  had  hard  work  to  find  that  rhyme ; 

10.  But  I  wont  give  it  up  this  time, 
Although  I  own  I  'm  not  a  poet. 

11.  If  I  am  wrong,  then  please  to  show  it, 
This  is  the  best  that  1  can  do. 

12.  And  now,  good  friends,  we  've  all  got  through, 
And  this  queer  song  I  give  to  you." 


"Now  let's  write  some  cento  verses,"  cried  Kate, 
after  this  had  been  read. 

"  What  kind  of  verses  ar.e  those  ?  "  inquired  Otis. 

"  Do  n't  you  know  what  cento  verses  are  ?  "  replied 
Kate.  "  Why,  you  take  a  number  of  lines  of  poetry 
from  different  authors,  and  arrange  them  together  so 
that  they  will  rhyme,  and  make  some  sort  of  sense  — • 
that 's  the  way  to  make  cento  verses." 

"  Pooh !  I  do  n't  think  much  of  that,"  said  Ronald. 

"  A  person  needs  to  have  a  good  deal  of  poetry  at 
his  tongue's  end,  to  find  amusement  in  writing  cento 
verses,"  observed  Marcus.  "  Kate  and  Jessie  have  a 
poetical  turn,  and  might  succeed  at  it,  but  I  am  afraid 
the  rest  of  us  would  find  it  rather  hard  work?' 

u  Well,  I  'm  going  to  try,"  said  Kate ;  "  and  if  there 


176 


PITH-TUMBLERS. 


is  n't   poetry   enough   on   my   tongue's   end,   there 's 
plenty  up  in  the  book-case." 

Kate  took  a  piece  of  paper,  and  commenced  jotting 
down  some  lines,  occasionally  consulting  Jessie,  or 
turning  to  a  volume  of  poetry.  Ronald  and  Otis  found 
more  congenial  amusement,  in  a  couple  of  toys  of 
which  they  had  recently  come  in  possession.  They 
were  "pith-tumblers,"  made  by  an  ingenious  boy  i& 
their  class,  who  realized  quite  a  little  fortune  of 
pocket-money  by  manufacturing  these  comical  figures 
for  his  mates.  They  were  made  of  the  pith  of  elder 
trees,  and  the  figures  were  neatly  cut,  to  represent 
Turks,  Chinese  Mandarins,  Brahmins,  clowns,  and 
other  characters.  Ronald's  tumbler  was  a  Turk,  and 

he  named  him  the 
Grand  Mufti.  He 
was  seated  on  half 
a  bullet,  composedly 
smoking  his  long 
pipe.  Otis  called 
his  figure  the  Sleepy 
Brahmin.  It  had  a  lead  cap,  and  consequently  was 
under  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  standing  on  its 


THE    BALANCED    COIN. 


177 


head.  Both  the  Mufti  and  the  Brahmin,  when  jarred, 
seemed  ready  to  fall  over,  but  were  sure  to  right  them- 
selves very  quickly,  owing  to  the  centre  of  gravity 
being  in  the  leaden  base.  While  the  boys  were  play- 
ing with  these  trifles,  Marcus  stepped  out  of  the  room, 
and  soon  returned  with  a  bottle  and  a  couple  of  forks. 
Seeing  the  curiosity  of  the  boys  was  excited,  Marcus 
asked  them  if  they  could  make  a  quarter  of  a  dollar 
spin  round  on  the  point  of  a  needle. 

"  Give  me  a  quarter,  and  I  '11  try,"  said  Ronald. 

Marcus  chose  to  make  the  trial  himself,  and  in  a 

few  minutes  he  accomplished  the  feat,  to  the  no  small 

astonishment  of  the  boys. 
This  was  the  way  he  did 
it.  In  the  cork  of  the 
bottle  he  fixed  a  needle. 
He  then  took  another 
cork,  and  cut  a  slit  in  it, 
large  enough  to  receive 
the  edge  of  the  coin. 
Then  he  stuck  into  the 
cork  the  two  forks,  oppo- 
site each  other,  with  the  handles  inclining  down- 


178  CENTRE    OF    GRAVITY. 

wards.  The  edge  of  the  coin  was  now  placed  on 
the  needle,  and  the  whole  apparatus,  —  coin,  cork, 
and  forks,  —  was  made  to  spin  round  without  falling 
off 

"  Now,  Ronald,  can  you  explain  the  philosophy  of 
that  ?  "  inquired  Marcus. 

"  No,  sir,  I  'm  sure  I  can't,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  Well,  can  you  explain  why  your  little  pith-tum- 
blers operate  as  they  do  ?  "  inquired  Marcus. 

"  It 's  because  the  centre  of  gravity  is  in  one  end 
of  the  figures,  in  the  lead,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  centre  of  gravity  ? " 
inquired  Marcus. 

"Why,  the  point  where  the  weight  of  the  whole 
thing  is  evenly  balanced,"  said  Ronald  ;  "  for  instance, 
if  I  balance  this  book  on  the  end  of  my  finger,  the 
point  that  rests  on  my  finger  will  be  the  centre  of 
gravity." 

"  Yes,  you  have  the  idea,"  resumed  Marcus  ;  "  and 
this  little  experiment  is  explained  on  the  same  princi- 
ple. The  weight  of  the  forks,  projecting  as  they  do 
so  much  below  the  coin,  brings  the  centre  of  gravity 
of  the  arrangement  below  the  point  of  the  needle, 


ANOTHER     EXPERIMENT.  17& 

which  is  the  point  of  suspension  ;  and  the  coin  is 
much  less  liable  to,  fall  off  than  it  would  be  if  the 
centre  of  gravity  were  higher." 

"  Now  let  me  show  you  a  little  experiment,"  said 
Ronald.  "  I  'm  going  to  put  two  chairs  back  to  back, 
take  off  my  shoes,  and  jump  over  them.  Do  you  be- 
lieve I  can  do  it  ?  " 

"This  is  n't  a  suitable  place  for  such  rough  play 
—  if  you  want  to  do  any  jumping,  you  had  better  go 
out-doors,"  said  Mrs.  Page. 

"  But  I  wont  do  the  least  harm  in  the  world,"  re- 
plied Ronald.  "  Let  me  show  you  how  I  do  it,  wont 
you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Page  making  no  reply,  Ronald  inferred  that 
she  consented ;  and  placing  the  chairs  as  he  had  de- 
scribed, he  took  off  his  shoes,  and  drawing  back  to  the 
end  of  the  room,  ran  and  jumped  over  the  —  shoes,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  those  who  were  watching  the 
"  experiment." 

Marcus  and  Oscar  had  resumed  their  reading,  and 
Ronald  and  Otis  now  began  to  amuse  themselves  with 
a  puzzle  which  they  called  the  Moslem  Oracle.  It 
was  a  table,  divided  by  lines  into  a  hundred  little 


180 


THE    MOSLEM    OUACLE. 


squares,  in  each  of  which  was  written  a  letter,  as  fol- 
lows : 


d 

w 

W 

a 

w 

o 

h 

a 

b 

h 

i 

0 

i 

8 

0 

t 

d 

t 

t 

w 

w 

o 

a 

a 
n 

a 

i 

e 

n 

a 

i 
a 

i 
e 
h 

t 

s 

d 

t 

h 

i 

o 

t 

t 

n 

t 

u 

w 

t 

d 

t 

i 

a 

e 

s 

f 

1 

i 

n 

n 

e 

1 

n 
h 

j 

y 

c 

a 

d 

t 

0 

c 

r 

o 

e 

o 

w 

y 

P 

e 

f 

r 

w 

e 

d 

i 

o 

i' 

a 

e 

1 

n 

s 

c 

t 

1 

s> 

h 

e    !    h 

The  boy  from  whom  they  obtained  a  copy  of  this 
Oracle,  told  them  he  had  read  that  it  was  sometimes 
actually  used  by  the  superstitious  Moslems,  when  they 
were  in  doubt  about  any  thing  they  thought  of  doing. 
The  rule  is  to  repeat  certain  verses  of  the  Koran,  and* 
then  to  place  the  finger  upon  the  table,  without  look- 
ing at  it.  The  Moslem  then  looks  to  see  on  what 
letter  his  finger  has  rested,  and  writes  it  down,  with 
every  fffh  following  letter  in  the  table,  until  he  has 


THE    ORACLE'S    RESPONSES.  181 

got  back  to  his  starting  place.  For  example,  we  will 
suppose  his  finger  fell  on  the  letter  e  in  the  sixth  line. 
He  writes  down  every  fifth  letter,  and  the  following 
appears: 

S 

en  jo yp eaceabstainand 

In  reading  the  sentence,  he  commences  with  the 
first  of  the  letters  taken  from  the  upper  line ;  and  so 
the  utterance  of  his  Oracle  is  : 

"Abstain,  and  enjoy  peace." 

This  Oracle  is  capable  of  giving  five  distinct  answers, 
as  any  reader  can  easily  verify ;  and  commence  with 
what  letter  we  will,  we  shall  obtain  one  of  these 
answers.  It  is,  of  course,  a  superstition,  which  gives 
any  authority  to  these  answers ;  but  it  is  curious  to 
observe  that  the  Oracle  is  so  arranged  as  to  be  likely 
to  do  good  rather  than  harm  to  those  who  consult  it. 
It  contains  but  one  affirmative  and  four  negative 
answers,  and  it  is  evident  that  its  framer  knew  that 
when  men  hesitate  about  doing  an  action,  it  is  gen- 
erally safer  to  abstain  from  it  than  to  perform  it. 
16 


182  THE    CENTO    POEM. 

Men  are  more  disposed  to  consult  oracles  for  leave  to 
do  wrong,  than  for  advice  to  do  right. 

Kate  had  now  finished  her  cento  poem,  and  read  it 
aloud.     It  was  as  follows : 

When  the  immortals  at  their  banquet  lay  [Moore. 

Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday,  [Byron. 

By  all  their  country's  wishes  blest,  [  Collins. 

The  fright  was  general ;  but  the  female  band,  [ Dryden. 
Waked  by  the  circling  hours,  with  rosy  hand,  [Milton. 

'Scaped  all  the  toils  that  life  molest,  [  Cowley. 

And  on  a  sudden  sung  the  hundredth  Psalm.  [Gay. 

Of  living  lakes,  in  summer's  noontide  calm.  [Akenside. 

The  wanton  troopers,  riding  by,  [Marvell. 

To  sweep  the  cobwebs  from  the  sky,  [Mother  Goose. 
Intent  on  high  designs,  a  thoughtful  band,  [Goldsmith. 

Peered  from  the  curtained  gallery,  [  Croly. 

And  strewed  with  sudden  carcasses  the  land.  [Armstrong. 

The  piper  loud  and  louder  blew  [Burns. 

A  circle  regularly  true,  [Prior. 

Savage  and  shrill!  But  with  the  breath  which  fills  [Byron. 

Twelve  bottles  ranged  upon  the  board,  [  Gay. 

And  the  world's  cold  neglect,  which  surest  kills,  [Hunt. 

He  watched,  he  served,  he  cheered  his  lord,  f  Spencer. 

O  heaven !  he  cried,  my  bleeding  country  save,     [  Campbell. 

Poor  human  ruins,  tottering  o'er  the  grave !  [  Young. 

By  that  dread  name,  we  wave  the  sword  on  high,  [  Campbell. 

When  in  the  valley  of  Jchoshaphat,  \Dryden. 

For  whom  contending  kings  are  proud  to  die —    [Falconer. 

Die,  and  endow  a  college  or  a  cat !  [Pope. 

"  That 's  pretty  fair,"  said  Marcus ;  "  but  I  suspect 


CONTENTS    OF    THE    WKEATH.  183 

memory  didn't  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it  —  only 
a  few  of  the  lines  have  a  familiar  sound  to  my  ear." 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,"  replied  Kate,  "  my  mem- 
ory is  one  of  the  kind  that  never  can  think  of  anything 
when  you  happen  to  want  it ;  so  I  helped  it  along  a 
little,  with  two  or  three  books  of  poetry." 

The  request  was  general  that  a  copy  of  these  lines, 
and  also  of  the  "  thread-paper  poem,"  should  be  fur- 
nished for  publication  in  the  "  Home  Wreath."  The 
successive  numbers  of  this  little  paper  were  carefully 
kept  on  file,  after  all  had  read  them,  and  it  was  a  cus- 
tom to  insert  in  its  pages  anything  of  suitable  length 
that  the  family  wished  to  preserve.  The  next  num- 
ber of  the  "Wreath,"  which  appeared  on  Saturday 
afternoon,  contained  one  of  these  poems,  together  with 
an  unusual  variety  of  original  matter,  which  an  edito- 
rial paragraph  pleasantly  attributed  to  the  protracted 
storm,  remarking  that  "  it  was  an  ill  wind  that  blew 
nobody  any  good."  Among  the  contributions  were 
several  arithmetical  problems.  One  was  as  follows: 
u  So  arrange  four  nines  as  to  make  one  hundred." 
Another  was :  —  "  If  you  take  nine  from  six,  ten  from 
nine,  and  fifty  from  forty,  there  will  then  six  remain." 


184  PUZZLES    ANSWERED. 

Jessie,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  threw  off  the  fol- 
lowing rhyming  answers  to  these  questions,  designing 
to  send  them  to  the  editor  for  insertion  the  next  week : 


"Two  nines  I  place  upon  a  line, 
And  that  will  make  just  ninety-nine;      ...     99 
In  form  of  fraction  then  I  write 
Nine-ninths,  and  to  the  first  unite,      ....       § 
And  that  the  number  makes  just  right     .    .    .  100." 

"From  S,  I,  X,  I  take  I,  X, 

And  that  will  leave  an S, 

Thus  standing  by  itself  alone, 

And  nothing  more  nor  less. 
Then  from  I,  X,  I  take  the  X, 

(So  you  can  if  you  try,) 
And  that,  you  see,  leaves  only  this 

Poor  slender  letter I. 

"  From  X,  L,  next,  as  Pat  might  say, 

The  L  I  disannex, 
And  then  there 's  left,  as  here  you  see, 

This  little  saw-horse, X. 

These  three  remainders  thus  T  fix, 
And  they  rend  plainly  S,  I,  X." 


Such  were  some  of  the  ways  in  which  the  young 
folks  in  Mrs.  Page's  family  amused  themselves,  when 
kept  indoors  by  stress  of  weather. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALL    TOOLS'    DAT. 

T)ONALD  and  Otis  occupied  the  same  chamber. 
It  was  in  the  second  story  of  the  house,  and  had 
two  windows,  one  looking  to  the  north-east  and.  the 
other  to  the  south-east.  At  this  season  of  the  year, 
Ronald  was  obliged  to  rise  soon  after  day-break,  to 
attend  to  his  work.  He  was  very  apt  to  feel  sleepy 
in  the  morning,  and  Marcus,  who  was  an  early  riser, 
usually  called  him  when  it  was  time  to  get  up.  Otis, 
being  a  boarder,  did  not  rise  so  early,  but  commonly 
slept  until  the  sun  poured  its  light  into  the  chamber 
through  the  north-east  window,  and  sometimes  long 
after.  He  was,  in  fact,  rather  fond  of  his  bed. 

On  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  April,  Ronald 
played  quite  a  serious  trick  upon  his  room-mate,  by 
way  of  celebrating  "  All  Fools'  day."     The  windows 
16* 


186  THE    TRICK. 

of  their  chamber  happened  to  be  provided  with  old- 
fashioned  tight  shutters,  which,  however,  were  not 
now  used,  curtains  having  been  substituted  for  them. 
On  the  morning  in  question,  Ronald  arose  very  slyly, 
at  early  day-break,  and  commenced  disarranging  and 
secreting  the  several  articles  of  Otis's  every-day 
apparel.  One  of  his  suspenders  he  hid  under  the 
bed-clothes,  and  the  other  he  tied  into  knots ;  he 
turned  the  legs  of  his  pantaloons  and  the  sleeves  of 
his  jacket  inside  out ;  deposited  one  stocking  in  his 
jacket  pocket,  and  crowded  the  other  into  the  toe  of 
his  shoe ;  hid  the  other  shoe  on  the  upper  shelf  of  the 
closet,  after  emptying  into  it  the  contents  of  his  trow- 
sers  pockets ;  and,  in  short,  put  things  into  such  a 
plight,  that  he  supposed  it  would  take  Otis  at  least  an 
hour  to  dress  himself.  He  then  closed  the  shutters, 
and  left  the  room,  carefully  shutting  the  door,  lest  the 
movements  of  the  rest  of  the  family  should  disturb 
the  sleeper. 

Otis  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  the  breakfast 
table,  when  the  bell  rang,  but  as  this  had  occasionally 
happened  before,  it  did  not  excite  any  surprise.  The 
table  was  left  standing  for  him,  after  breakfast,  and  the 


RONALD'S  SUCCESS.  187 

several  members  of  the  family  went  about  their  busi- 
ness. Ronald,  somewhat  to  his  disappointment,  was 
despatched  to  school  nearly  an  hour  before  the  usual 
time,  that  he  might  do  an  errand  in  a  distant  part  of 
the  town,  on  his  way.  Before  he  started,  he  crept  up 
to  the  door  of  his  chamber,  and,  listening,  heard  the 
loud  breathing  of  Otis,  as  if  still  asleep.  As  he 
passed  out  through  the  dining-room,  he  noticed  a  clean 
plate  and  knife  at  Otis's  place,  and  impelled  by  the 
spirit  of  mischief  which  had  taken  possession  of  him, 
he  snatched  them  from  the  table,  and  put  dirty  ones  in 
their  place.  A  moment  after,  Jessie  came  in,  and 
began  to  clear  off  the  table,  when  Miss  Lee,  who  was 
in  the  kitchen,  seeing  Ronald  about  to  leave,  said : 

"  Before  you  go,  Ronald,  I  wish  you  would  run  up 
stairs  and  call  Otis  —  he  hasn't  been  to  breakfast 
yet." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  he 's  been  to  breakfast  and  gone," 
said  Jessie,  deceived  by  the  appearance  of  the  table. 

"  Then  he  was  very  quick  about  it,  for  I  have  n't 
seen  him  this  morning,"  said  Miss  Lee. 

Ronald  said  nothing,  but,  availing  himself  of  Jes- 
sie's mistake,  hurried  away  without  calling  Qtis,  con- 


188  BOTS     FOOLED. 

gratulating  himself  that  his  plot  had  worked  so  admir- 
ably. After  doing  his  errand,  he  had  time  and  oppor- 
tunity to  fool  several  of  his  school-mates,  which  he 
diligently  improved.  He  made  one  simple  boy  believe 
that  his  back  was  covered  with  chalk,  and  thank  him 
for  drubbing  it  off  in  vigorous  style,  when  there  was 
not  a  particle  of  chalk  upon  the  poor  fellow's  jacket. 
He  exhibited  to  a  group  of  boys  what  he  called  a 
"  railroad  whistle."  It  looked  like  an  ordinary  whis- 
tle, with  a  number  of  holes  on  the  top,  but  he  repre- 
sented it  as  having  remarkable  power,  if  a  boy  only 
had  wind  enough  to  sound  it.  One  of  the  boys,  more 
curious  than  wise,  gave  it  a  vigorous  blast,  and  blew 
into  his  face  a  cloud  of  flour,  with  which  the  whistle 
had  been  filled,  to  the  great  amusement  of  all  who 
witnessed  the  experiment. 

Ronald  was  born  and  lived  for  eight  years  among  a 
people  of  French  extraction,  in  Canada.  He  still 
remembered  some  of  the  habits  and  customs  of  his 
native  village,  among  which  was  the  observance  of 
Easter.  Easter  is  a  festival  in  commemoration  of  the 
resurrection  of  Christ,  and  is  quite  generally  observed 
in  European  countries.  It  occurs  about  the  first  of 


EASTER    EGGS.  189 

April.  In  some  countries,  it  is  customary  to  give  eggs 
to  the  children,  on  this  occasion,  which  are  ornamented 
in  various  ways.  In  Ronald's  native  town,  the  chil- 
dren used  to  boil  their  Easter  eggs  in  water  containing 
a  dye  of  some  color,  by  which  the  shells  became  red, 
blue,  purple,  or  of  any  other  hue  that  was  desired. 
If  they  wished  to  inscribe  a  name  or  ornament  on  an 
egg,  they  first  plunged  it  into  hot  water,  and  then 
wrote  the  name  or  drew  the  design  on  the  shell  with 
tallow.  The  egg  was  then  boiled  in  the  colored  water, 
but  the  dye  would  not  penetrate  any  part  of  the  shell 
which  had  been  covered  with  grease,  and  consequently 
the  ornament  or  inscription  would  appear  white. 

Ronald  had  been  indulged  in  his  Easter  eggs  every 
year  since  he  was  adopted  into  Mrs.  Page's  family. 
He  called  them  Easter  eggs,  but  they  might  more 
appropriately  have  been  termed  "  April  Fool "  eggs, 
for,  regardless  of  the  ecclesiastical  calendar,  the  first 
day  of  the  fourth  month  was  always  Easter  to  him. 
He  carried  several  of  these  stained  eggs  to  school,  on 
the  morning  whose  history  I  am  recounting ;  and  after 
the  "  railroad  whistle  "  experiment,  he  exhibited  them 
to  some  of  the  girls.  They  were  blue,  with  white 


190  STRIKING    EGGS. 

fillets  around  them,  and  looked  quite  pretty.  Some- 
body inquiring  about  their  strength,  Ronald  said  they 
were  boiled  very  hard,  and  would  stand  a  pretty  smart 
blow.  He  said  he  boiled  them  as  soon  as  they  were 
laid,  which  was  the  way  to  do,  if  you  wanted  a  real 
hard  egg.  He  invited  two  of  the  girls  to  make  a  trial 
of  their  hardness,  by  each  taking  an  egg  in  her  hand, 
and  striking  them  together,  promising  that  the  egg 
which  stood  the  test  should  be  the  property  of  the  one 
who  held  it.  They  did  so,  and  at  the  first  trial, 
neither  egg  was  damaged,  the  blow  being  too  light. 
The  next  time,  however,  one  of  the  eggs  was  crushed, 
but  the  other  was  uninjured. 

The  girl  who  won  the  blue  egg,  refused  to  hazard 
it  again  in  a  trial  with  an  uncolored  boiled  egg,  which 
Ronald  wished  her  to  submit  it  to.  So  Ronald  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  second  white  egg,  and  persuaded 
Kate  Sedgwick  and  another  girl  to  a  trial  of  strength, 
similar  to  the  first.  Each  held  the  egg  firmly  in  her 
palm,  and  measured  the  distance  carefully  with  her 
eye,  and  then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  came  the  shock, 
the  crash,  and  the  smash.  And  a  smash  it  was  in- 
deed ;  for  the  egg  Kate  held  was  just  as  raw  and  ten- 


A    JUST    REWARD  191 

der  as  when  biddy  laid  it,  and  in  the  rude  encounter, 
its  liquid  contents  spirted  out  in  an  astonishing  manner 
upon  both  the  contestants,  but  especially  upon  Kate. 
The  fragments  that  remained  in  her  hand  she  hurled 
at  Ronald's  head,  but  the  rogue  was  too  spry  for  her, 
and  they  fell  short  of  the  mark. 

It  would  have  been  strange  if  a  boy  who  was  so 
active  as  Ronald  In  playing  off  his  pranks  upon 
others,  had  himself  wholly  escaped  from  similar  prac- 
tical jokes.  But  he  did  not.  One  trick  was  played 
upon  him,  which  annoyed  him  very  much.  Some 
one,  he  could  not  ascertain  who,  spread  upon  his  seat 
a  quantity  of  soft  pitch,  upon  which  he  unsuspiciously 
sat.  The  sticky  gum  adhered  so  pertinaciously  to  his 
clothing,  that  he  could  not  remove  it,  but  through  the 
day,  whenever  he  attempted  to  make  the  slightest 
movement  upon  his  seat,  he  found  himself  held  fast 
by  an  invisible  power. 

When  the  morning  session  of  the  academy  opened, 
Marcus  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  discover  that  Otis 
was  missing.  He  went  to  Ronald's  seat  and  asked 
where  he  was. 

"  I  do  n't  know  "  replied  Ronald. 


192  A    MISSING    BOY. 

"  Did  n't  he  go  with  you  to  Mr.  Bright's,  this  morn- 
ing ?  "  inquired  Marcus. 

"  No,  sir,  I  have  n't .  seen  him  since  I  got  up," 
replied  Ronald. 

"  But  have  n't  you  any  idea  where  he  is  ? "  con- 
tinued Marcus. 

"  I  do  n't  know  where  he  can  be,  unless  he 's  a-bed," 
said  Ronald. 

"  A-bed  this  time  of  day  !  How  can  that  be  ? " 
exclaimed  Marcus. 

Ronald  made  no  further  reply,  and  Marcus  then 
questioned  Kate,  Jessie  and  Oscar,  but  none  of  them 
could  say  they  had  seen  Otis,  that  morning.  Mean- 
while, Aunt  Fanny  was  making  quite  as  surprising  a 
discovery  at  home,  as  Marcus  made  at  school.  She 
went  up  stairs,  to  take  care  of  the  boys',  room,  and 
found  Otis  asleep,  and  the  room  as  dark  as  at  night. 

"  Why,  Otis  Sedgwick !  are  you  asleep  yet  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Aunt  Fanny,  shaking  the  boy  by  the  shoulder. 
"  Come,  wake  up !  It 's  after  nine  o'clock." 

"Is  it  this  morning,  or  last  night?"  inquired  the 
drowsy  and  bewildered  boy,  rubbing  his  eyes,  as  if  to 
let  the  day-light  into  them. 


VEXATION,  193 

Aunt  Fanny  pulled  open  the  shutters,  and  the  sun, 
two  hours  and  a  half  high,  came  streaming  in  upon 
the  bed,  to  the  astonishment  of  Otis. 

"  This  is  one  of  Ronald's  tricks,  I  suppose,"  said 
Aunt  Fanny.  "But  he  has  carried  the  jo!;e  altogether 
too  far.  You  are  too  late  to  go  to  school  this  forenoon." 

"Well,  this  is  a  pretty  piece  of  business,  I  do 
think,"  said  Otis,  who  now  began  to  comprehend  the 
joke  that  had  been  played  upon  him. 

Aunt  Fanny  withdrew,  telling  Otis  she  would  go 
and  prepare  his  breakfast.  After  waiting  some  time, 
as  the  boy  did  not  appear,  she  again  went  to  his  room, 
to  sail  him.  She  found  him  partly  dressed,  and  cry- 
ing with  vexation  because  he  could  not  find  the  rest 
of  his  apparel.  "With  her  aid,  the  missing  articles 
were  soon  found,  and  Otis  sat  down  to  his  breakfast, 
in  not  a  very  pleasant  mood,  about  half-past  nine 
o'clock. 

Otis  went  to  school  in  the  afternoon.  He  at  once 
informed  Marcus  of  the  cause  of  his  absence,  but  he 
kept  out  of  the  way  of  Ronald,  with  whom  he  felt 
offended.  At  recess,  Ronald  determined  to  speak  to 
Otis,  and  he  did. 

17 


194  OTI3     AND     RONALD. 

"  Hullo,  Otis,"  he  said,  "  why  did  n't  you  come  to 
school,  this  morning  ?  " 

Otis  took  no  notice  of  the  question,  except  to  turn 
away  from  his  persecutor. 

"  Sun  did  n't  rise  as  early  as  common,  did  it  ?  "  con- 
tinued Ronald,  laughing. 

Otis  made  no  reply. 

"  Come,  now,"  added  Ronald,  laying  his  arm  over 
the  shoulder  of  Otis,  "  do  n't  get  mad  with  a  fellow  for 
a  joke  —  it  was  all  in  fun,  you  know." 

"  It  was  fun  to  you,  but  it  was  n't  to  me,"  replied 
Otis,  slipping  away  from  under  Ronald's  arm,  and 
leaving  him  alone. 

Ronald  felt  rather  sober  after  this  decided  rebuff. 
He  began  to  realize  that  a  joke  carried  too  far,  is  no 
joke  at  all ;  the  difficulty  with  which  he  moved  .about 
on  his  pitchy  seat,  helping  him  materially  to  this 
conclusion.  After  school,  he  walked  home  alone,  in 
advance  of  the  others,  who,  by  the  way,  were  dis- 
cussing his  conduct  with  much  interest.  Kate  and 
Otis  told  how  they  had  been  served,  and  several  other 
jokes  of  Ronald  were  related.  All  concurred  in  the 
opinion  that  the  custom  of  "  making  fools  "  of  each 


ABOUT    APRIL    FOOLING.  195 

other  on  the  first  of  April,  was  a  senseless  one,  and 
very  liable  to  abuses.  Still,  Marcus  said  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  get  angry  about  such  things,  and  he 
tried  to  make  Otis  forget  the  resentment  which  it  was 
evident  he  felt  towards  Ronald. 

On  reaching  his  home,  Marcus  learned  from  his 
mother  some  facts  in  regard  to  Ronald's  trick  upon 
Otis,  which  made  it  even  more  serious  than  it  at  first 
appeared.  In  carrying  it  out,  it  appeared  he  had 
really  been  guilty  of  something  that  looked  very  much 
like  disobedience  and  falsehood,  and  had  fooled  several 
others  besides  Otis.  When  spoken  to,  however,  Ro- 
nald seemed  unwilling  to  admit  that  he  had  done  any- 
thing blameworthy,  and  was  especially  astonished 
when  he  was  charged  with  doing  violence  to  the 
truth.  He  defended  himself  against  this  latter  charge 
with  considerable  ingenuity,  contending  that  if  any 
falsehood  was  told,  Jessie  was  the  guilty  one. 

"  I  think,"  said  Marcus,  after  talking  with  him 
awhile,  "  we  had  better  have  a  court  to  try  this  case, 
as  it  involves  some  important  principles." 

"  Well,  I  '11  agree  to  that,"  replied  Ronald.  "  Give 
me  a  fair  trial,  and  if  I  'm  beat,  I  won't  say  a  word." 

• 


196  A    COURT    PROPOSED. 

A  custom  had  been  introduced  into  the  family  of 
occasionally  holding  a  court  to  try  offences  of  a  pecu- 
liar nature.  When  there  was  some  doubt  as  to  the 
measure  of  blame  due  to  an  offender,  or  when  it  was 
uncertain  to  whom  the  blame  principally  belonged,  or 
when  important  moral  principles  were  involved  in  a 
wrong  act,  or  when  disputes  arose  about  perplexing 
points,  the  affair  was  sometimes  settled  by  resolving 
the  family  into  a  court  to  try  the  case.  This  was 
what  Marcus  now  proposed  to  do;  and,  as  Ronald 
agreed  to  it,  the  evening  of  the  next  day  was  ap- 
pointed for  holding  the  court,  and  all  concerned  were 
immediately  notified,  that  suitable  preparation  might 
be  made. 

In  these  little  courts,  no  attempt  was  made  to  imi- 
tate the  cumbrous  machinery,  the  solemn  dignity,  the 
slow  and  formal  movements,  or  the  "  glorious  uncer- 
tainty," which  usually  characterize  the  tribunals  estab- 
lished by  law.  Instead  of  a  long  indictment,  setting 
forth  a  simple  act  in  all  sorts  of  wicked  shapes,  and 
magnifying  and  multiplying  it  till  it  looked  like  a 
dozen  huge  crimes,  stuck  together,  the  court  I  am 
describing  based  their  action  on  a  simple  complaint, 


THE     COURT.  197 

written  in  plain,  unexaggerating  language.  They  had 
no  constable,  sheriff,  clerk  or  crier,  because  they  did 
not  need  them.  A  judge,  two  lawyers,  (one  to  prose- 
cute and  the  other  to  defend  the  accused,)  a  jury, 
(usually  consisting  of  two  or  three  persons,)  witnesses, 
and  a  prisoner,  were  all  the  functionaries  necessary  to 
this  court.  The  law  they  administered  was  that  "  com- 
mon law "  written  in  every  unperverted  heart,  and 
their  statute  book  was  the  Bible. 

The  trial  of  Ronald  commenced  early  on  the  even- 
ing appointed.  Marcus  presided  as  judge.  Oscar  was 
the  prosecuting  attorney.  As  the  accused  intended  to 
conduQt  his  own  defence,  no  counsel  appeared  for  him. 
Mrs.  Page,  Kate,  and  Jessie's  brother  Henry,  who 
happened  to  be  present,  were  the  jury.  Miss  Lee, 
Jessie  and  Otis  were  summoned  as  witnesses. 

After  the  court  had  come  to  order,  the  prosecuting 
attorney  arose,  and  said  that  several  complaints  had 
been  made  against  the  accused,  very  similar  in  their, 
character,  all  of  them  being  for  improper  and  unwar- 
rantable jokes  perpetrated  on  the  first  day  of  April. 
He  thought,  however,  that  the  ends  of  justice  would 
be  sufficiently  met  by  trying  the  prisoner  for  only  one 
17* 


198  THE    COMPLAINT. 

of  these  offences.  He  then  read  the  indictment,  or 
complaint,  which  was  drawn  up  with  care,  and  was  in 
the  following  form : 

"COMPLAINT. 

"  I  hereby  charge  Ronald  D.  Page  with  entering 
into  an  unjustifiable  plot  on  the  morning  of  the  first 
day  of  April,  185—,  to  detain  his  room-mate,  Otis 
Sedgwick,  in  his  chamber  until  an  unusual  hour, 
which  design  he  carried  out  by  darkening  the  room, 
displacing  and  disarranging  the  clothing  of  said  Sedg- 
wick, and  closing  the  door,  contrary  to  his  usual  cus- 
tom, thereby  keeping  said  room-mate  in  his  chamber 
until  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  school ;  which  act  was 
against  the  peace,  dignity  and  good  order  of  the 
family. 

"  I  also  charge  said  Page  with  disobedience,  in 
neglecting  to  call  said  Sedgwick,  when  told  to  do  so 
by  Miss  Lee. 

"I  also  charge  said  Page  with  being  virtually 
guilty  of  falsehood,  inasmuch  as  he  deceived  Miss 
Hapley  by  removing  certain  articles  from  the  break- 
fast table,  and  allowed  an  erroneous  statement,  which 
she  made  in  consequence,  to  go  uncorrected. 

"  OSCAR  PRESTON,  Pros.  Atfy. 

"  Highburg,  Vt.,  April  2,  185-." 


PLEA    OF    NOT    GUILTY.  199 

A  copy  of  this  complaint  had  been  given  to  Ronald 
in  the  morning,  that  he  might  know  precisely  what 
points  he  had  got  to  meet.  He  at  first  doubted 
whether  it  would  be  right  to  plead  not  guilty  to  all 
the  charges,  as  he  admitted  that  he  played  the  joke 
upon  Otis,  referred  to  in  the  first  charge.  But  Mar- 
cus explained  that  while  he  admitted  the  acts  speci- 
fied, he  might  if  he  chose  deny  the  bad  character 
ascribed  to-  them  in  the  complaint.  He  said  that  if 
Ronald  did  not  believe  his  April-fool  trick  upon  Otis 
was  "unjustifiable,"  and  "against  the  peace,  dignity 
and  good  order  of  the  family,"  he  had  a  moral  as  well 
as  legal  right  to  plead  not  guilty  to  the  complaint. 
Accordingly,  when  the  complaint  was  read  in  court, 
and  the  judge  asked  the  accused  whether  he  was 
guilty  or  not  guilty,  the  reply  was,  "  Not  guilty." 

The  witnesses  were  now  introduced.  Otis  first 
appeared,  and  related  all  that  he  knew  about  the  trick 
that  had  been  played  upon  him.  After  he  had  got 
through,  Ronald  put  a  few  questions  to  him. 

"  Do  you  generally  know  what  is  going  on  when 
you  are  sound  asleep  ?  "  inquired  the  accused. 

"  No,"  replied  the  witness. 


200  THE    WITNESSES. 

"  How,  then,  do  you  know  that  /did  the  mischief?" 

"  Because  —  because  I  know  you  did  it." 

"  Did  you  see  me  do  it  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Did  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Did  you  smell  me  ?  " 

A  titter  ran  through  the  room,  which  the  judge 
promptly  rebuked  by  calling  out  "  Order ! "  The 
reply  to  the  last  question  was  not  heard,  and  the 
accused  told  the  witness  he  might  take  his  seat, 
remarking,  at  the  same  time,  to  the  prosecuting  attor- 
ney: 

"  I  do  n't  think  you  have  made  much  out  of  him  — 
why,  he  undertakes  to  tell  what  was  going  on  when 
he  was  sound  asleep ! " 

Aunt  Fanny  was  the  next  witness.  She  testified  to 
finding  Otis  asleep,  late  in  the  morning,  and  described 
the  state  of  things  in  his  room,  at  that  time.  She  also 
related  what  took  place  in  the  kitchen,  when  she  told 
Ronald  to  call  Otis  to  breakfast.  Jessie  was  then 
called  to  the  stand,  and  corroborated  a  part  of  the  tes- 
timony of  Miss  Lee. 


THE     CONFESSION.  201 

The  evidence  for  the  prosecution  all  being  in,  the 
prisoner  said  he  should  summon  no  witnesses  to  rebut 
the  testimony  given,  although  he  presumed  he  could 
call  upon  every  person  in  the  court-room,  from  the 
learned  judge  down  to  the  witness  who  pretended  to 
tell  what  took  place  when  he  was  asleep,  to  testify  to 
his  (the  prisoner's)  good  character,  if  necessary.  He 
then  reviewed  the  evidence,  and  pronounced  it  all 
guess-work.  Certain  things  had  been  done.  There 
was  no  proof  that  he  did  them,  and  he  did  not  know 
why  they  should  be  so  positive  he  was  the  offender. 

"  May  it  please  your  honor,"  interrupted  the  prose- 
cuting attorney,  "  if  the  prisoner  thinks  there  is  any 
room  for  doubt,  on  that  point,  I  can  call  several  wit- 
nesses to  prove  that  he  has  confessed  that  he  did  all 
that  we  have  charged  him  with." 

"  If  it  please  your  honor,"  replied  the  accused,  "  I 
suppose  I  could  claim  that  anything  I  may  have  said 
shall  not  be  used  against  me.  Am  I  not  right  ?  " 

"  Whatever  the  law  or  usage  may  be  in  other  tribu- 
nals," replied  the  judge,  "  this  court  is  of  the  opinion 
that  any  confession  made  by  the  defendant  may  be 
used  as  evidence  against  him,  unless  it  can  be  shown 


202  ARGUMENT    FOR    DEFENCE* 

that  he  was  influenced  by  fear,  or  a  hope  of  gaining 
some  end,  in  making  the  confession." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  accused,  "  I  will  save  the 
prosecuting  attorney  the  trouble  of  bringing  forward 
any  more  witnesses.  I  merely  wished  to  show  him 
the  flaw  in  the  net  in  which  he  thinks  he  has  caught 
me ;  but  I  had  no  idea  of  crawling  off  through  such  a 
small  hole.  No,  your  honor,  I  admit  that  I  played  an 
April-fool  trick  upon  my  young  friend." 

The  accused  then  went  on  to  justify  himself,  in  a 
speech  of  considerable  length,  which  was  very  atten- 
tively listened  to.  He  took  the  ground  that  the  cus- 
tom of  playing  April-fool  tricks  was  an  old  and  almost 
universal  one ;  that  it  was  one  of  the  established  and 
inalienable  rights  of  boys ;  that  there  is  no  harm  in 
playing  off  a  pleasant  joke  in  a  good-natured  way ; 
that  he  had  no  malice  against  Otis,  and  in  reality  did 
him  no  harm  ;  that  there  was  no  excuse  for  his  sleep- 
hag  till  after  school-time,  even  if  the  room  was  dark- 
ened ;  that  in  removing  Otis's  plate  from  the  breakfast 
table,  he  only  made  an  April  fool  of  Jessie ;  that  it 
was  not  his  business  to  contradict  Jessie,  and  correct 
her  errors ;  that  he  did  not  call  Otis,  because  he  sup- 


THE    CLOSING    PLEA.  203 

posed  Aunt  Fanny  did  not  expect  him  to,  after  what 
Jessie  had  said ;  and  that  he  did  not  feel  that  he  had 
been  guilty  of  disobedience  or  falsehood,  in  anything 
he  had  done,  in  connection  with  this  affair.  He  closed 
with  an  earnest  appeal  to  the  jury,  beseeching  them  to 
judge  him  by  his  motives  rather  than  his  acts,  and 
reminding  them  that  it  was  better  to  err  on  the  side  of 
mercy  than  of  severity. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  now  arose,  and  made  the 
closing  plea.  He  set  forth  in  vivid  colors  the  provok- 
ing nature  of  the  offence,  and  the  loss  of  time,  temper 
and  school  privileges  which  Otis  had  suffered  in  con- 
sequence of  it.  Even  allowing  that  there  is  no  evil  in 
playing  harmless  practical  jokes  on  the  first  day  of 
April,  he  held  that  this  was  a  very  different  affair.  It 
was  too  serious  a  matter  to  be  passed  off  as  a  joke. 
It  was  an  offence  against  good  order  and  good  feeling. 
But  he  was  ready  to  go  farther  than  this,  and  con- 
demn all  kinds  of  April-fool  tricks.  It  was  a  foolish 
custom,  if  it  was  an  old  one.  As  to  boys  having  an 
"inalienable  right"  to  make  fools  of  each  other,  on 
any  day  of  the  year,  as  had  been  claimed  by  the 
defendant,  he  said  the  proposition  need  only  be  stated, 


204  AN    EPISODE. 

to  be  laughed  at.     There  were  serious  evils  connected 

with  this  fooling  business,  as  was  abundantly  illus- 
• 
trated  in  the  case  under  trial.     It  was  very  apt  to  be 

carried  too  far,  and  to  degenerate  into  impudence, 
rowdyism,  recklessness,  revenge,  etc.  Besides,  it  be- 
gets lying.  He  believed  there  were  more  lies  told 
among  boys  on  April  first  than  on  any  other  day  of 
the  year.  Lying  is  almost  essential  to  the  playing  off 
of  an  April-fool  hoax.  Lies  may  be  acted,  as  well  as 
spoken;  they  may  be  implied,  as  well  as  expressed. 
Any  attempt  to  deceive,  is  a  falsehood. 

"I  would  like  to  ask  the  learned  counsel,"  inter- 
rupted Ronald,  "whether  I  am  guilty  of  falsehood, 
when  I  give  my  hens  glass  nest-eggs  ?  " 

This  question  produced  some  merriment  in  the 
room,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  stagger  the 
attorney.  He  got  over  it,  however,  by  saying  that  a 
falsehood  could  be  told  only  to  a  rational  being.  A 
hen  is  not  capable  of  lying,  or  of  being  lied  to. 

Ronald  again  interposed.  He  said  he  admitted  that 
a  hen  could  not  tell  a  lie ;  but  she  could  be  deceived 
with  a  glass  egg,  just  as  he  was  sometimes  deceived 
by  lying  boys"  why,  then,  could  she  not  be  lied  to,  as 
well  as  he  ? 


THE    ARGUMENT.  205 

The  prosecuting  attorney  appeared  somewhat  con- 
fused, for  a  moment,  but  he  proceeded  to  say  that  this 
discussion  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case  on  trial,  and 
he  would  thank  the  defendant  not  to  interrupt  -him 
again  with  irrelevant  matters.  He  then  resumed  his 
argument.  He  thought  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
if  we  allowed  another  to  make  an  erroneous  statement 
in  our  hearing,  innocently,  and  we  did  not  correct  it, 
we  were  not  blameless ;  but  if  we  had  previously  set 
a  trap  to  mislead  the  person  into  this  very  false  state- 
ment, we  certainly  were  greatly  to  blame.  He  then 
took  up  the  question  of  Ronald's  disobedience,  and 
argued  that  he  was  without  excuse  for  neglecting  to 
call  Otis,  when  told  to.  In  concluding,  he  said  he 
had  been  informed  that  the  accused  had  been  guilty 
of  similar  offences,  though  in  a  milder  degree,  a  year 
previous  to  this  time,  and  had  been  faithfully  warned 
against  repeating  them.  Justice,  both  to  himself  and 
to  the  family,  seemed  to  require  that  efficient  means 
should  be  adopted  to  put  a  stop  to  such  proceedings, 
and  he  called  upon  the  jury  to  do  their  duty  firmly, 
and  not  allow  their  verdict  to  be  influenced  by  fear, 
favor,  or  a  mistaken  charity. 
18 


206  THE    VERDICT. 

The  judge  now  arose  and  charged  the  jury.  He 
set  forth  the  facts  that  had  been  proved  against  the 
accused,  and  stated  in  an  impartial  manner  the  ques- 
tions which  the  jury  were  to  consider.  He  said -he 
did  not  consider  it  proper  to  offer  them  any  instruction 
as  to  the  moral  law  on  which  their  decision  must  be 
based,  as  they  were  as  well  versed  ifl  that  as  he  was 
himself.  He  closed  by  urging  them  to  render  an  hon- 
est and  impartial  decision. 

The  jury  now  retired  to  another  room,  and  the 
judge  announced  that  the  court  would  take  a  recess. 
Judge  and  prisoner,  counsel  and  witness,  now  chatted 
together  quite  familiarly  for  a  little  while,  until  the 
jury  returned,  when  the  court  was  called  to  order,  and 
the  verdict  announced,  as  follows : 

"  We  find  the  prisoner  guilty  on  all  the  charges ; 
but  as  we  are  of  opinion  that  he  has  erred  through 
thoughtlessness  rather  than  from  malice,  we  recom- 
mend that  as  light  a  penalty  be  inflicted  as  in  the 
opinion  of  the  court  will  serve  the  ends  of  justice." 

The  judge,  who  had  probably  anticipated  such  a 
verdict,  and  had  decided  in  his  mind  what  the  penalty 
should  be,  now  told  the  prisoner  to  arise,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  address  him  in  these  words : 


THE    SENTENCE.  207 

"  Ronald  D.  Page,  you  have  been  tried  by  a  jury, 
and  found  guilty  of  taking  unwarrantable  liberties  with 
your  room-mate,  and  with  being  virtually  guilty  of 
disobedience  and  falsehood,  that  you  might  the  better 
carry  out  your  plot.  The  court  concurs  in  the  justice 
of  this  verdict,  and  also  in  the  propriety  of  the  recom- 
mendation of  m*ercy  that  accompanies  it.  But  the 
court  is  of  opinion  that  while  the  sentence  is  tempered 
with  mercy,  it  should  be  of  sufficient  severity  to  pre- 
vent a  repetition  of  the  offence.  Its  sentence,  there- 
fore, is,  that  on  "Wednesday  next,  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  you  be  taken  to  your  chamber,  and 
stripped  of  your  clothing." 

The  judge  here  paused  a  moment,  the  prisoner's 
face  fell,  and  there  was  a  decided  sensation  throughout 
the  room.  Marcus  continued : 

"  That  you  then  be  put  to  bed,  and  there  remain  for 
the  space  of  four  hours,  or  until  six  o'clock,  when  you 
shall  be  released.  And  the  court  appoints  Mr.  Pres- 
ton an  officer,  to  see  that  this  sentence  is  faithfully 
carried  out." 

So  ended  what  was  in  after  days  memorable  in  the 
annals  of  the  family  as  "the  great  April-fool  case." 


208     THE  SENTENCE  EXECUTED. 

The  sentence  was  fully  carried  out,  the  next  Wednes- 
day afternoon,  with  the  exception  that,  as  Ronald 
pledged  his  honor  to  put  himself  to  bed,  and  remain 
there  for  four  hours,  Oscar  allowed  him  to  perform 
that  office  for  himself.  The  "judge"  happened  to 
peep  into  his  chamber,  an  hour  or  two  after,  and  was 
not  a  little  surprised  to  find  his  prisoner  sleeping  as 
soundly,  and  snoring  as  complacently,  as  if  going  to 
bed  at  two  o'clock  were  a  very  pleasant  arrangement  I 


CHAPTER  XL 

SCHOLARS. 

rTIHE  preceptor  of  the  academy,  Mr.  Upton,  used  to 
say  a  great  deal  to  the  scholars  about  the  impor- 
tance of  good  spelling,  and  was  always  sure  to  point 
out  any  sins  against  this  virtue  which  he  discovered  in 
the  various  written  exercises  of  the  school.  He  said 
that  even  if  a  man  was  well  educated  in  other  respects, 
but  deficient  in  this,  his  bad  spelling  would  often  cause 
him  to  be  mistaken  for  an  ignorant  person.  Occasion- 
ally, by  way  of  enlivening  the  exercises  of  the  school, 
and  interesting  the  pupils  in  this  important  branch  of 
study,  Mr.  Upton  would  allow  them  to  have  a  "  spell- 
ing match,"  as  it  was  called.  Sometimes  the  contest 
was  between  the  girls,  arranged  on  one  side  of  the 
room,  and  the  boys  on  the  other.  A  leader  was 
appointed  t  on  each  side,  to  give  out  the  words  to  his 
18* 


210  SPELLING    MATCH. 

or  her  regiment.  A  pretty  hard  lesson  was  selected, 
and  the  leaders,  beginning  at  the  heads  of  their  respec- 
tive bands,  took  turns  in  giving  out  the  words.  No 
waiting  or  hesitation  was  allowed,  but  if  a  scholar 
could  not  promptly  spell  the  word  given  out,  he  had 
to  return  to  his  seat.  The  ranks  were  rapidly  thinned 
out,  and  the  band  which  retained  the  largest  number, 
when  the  exercise  closed,  were  the  victors. 

These  contests  became  still  more  exciting,  when,  as 
it  sometimes  happened,  the  leaders  were  allowed  to 
"choose  sides."  Selecting  by  turns  any  one  they 
pleased  from  the  whole  school,  they  picked  out  the 
best  spellers  first,  and  so  kept  on  till  all  the  scholars 
were  enlisted  on  one  side  or  the  other. 

Though  these  spelling  matches  were  greatly  enjoyed 
by  the  scholars,  and  were  profitable  to  them,  too,  they 
were  liable  to  some  objections,  and  for  this  reason, 
probably,  were  not  often  indulged  in.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  Jessie  was  one  of  the  leaders,  she  chose 
Abby  Leonard  on  her  side,  when  her  list  was  only 
one-fourth  full.  She  did  this,  to  save  Abby  the  mor- 
tification of  being  left  to  the  last,  as  she  would  other- 
wise have  been ;  for  she  was  a  notoriously  bad  speller, 


AN    INCIDENT.  211 

and  somebody  had  said  of  her,  with  more  truth  than 
kindness,  that  she  ought  to  count  only  half  of  one,  in 
a  spelling  match.  The  struggle  proved  to  be  a  pretty 
hard  one,  and  after  the  two  bands  had  been  reduced 
down  to  the  best  speUers,  they  were  so  equally  bal- 
anced that  it  was  for  a  time  doubtful  whether  either 
would  be  able  to  claim  a  victory  over  the  other.  At 
length,  however,  one  of  Jessie's  company  missed  a 
word,  and  the  match  was  decided  against  them,  as  the 
time  had  come  to  dismiss  the  school.  The  next  day, 
Jessie  learned  that  under  the  excitement  and  disap- 
pointment of  the  moment,  two  or  three  of  the  scholars 
on  her  side  had  found  much  fault  with  her  for  choosing 
Abby  instead  of  a  good  speller,  whom  she  might  have 
had,  and  thus  gained  the  day.  Thus,  in  doing  an  act 
of  kindness  to  one,  she  had  provoked  censure  from 
several  of  her  associates.  And,  on  reflection,  she  was 
led  to  doubt  whether  she  did  not  deserve  blame ;  for 
ability  to  spell,  and  not  favor,  was  the  principle  on 
which  the  leaders  were  expected  to  make  their  choice. 
At  the  next  spelling  match,  the  leaders  thought  of 
nothing  but  getting  the  best  spellers,  and  Abby  sank 
to  her  natural  level.  She  was  almost  the  last  one 


212  JESSIE'S   SCHOLARSHIP. 

called ;  and  when  her  name  was  called,  she  turned  a 
look  of  scorn  upon  the  young  man  who  conferred  this 
tardy  honor  upon  her,  and  refused  to  take  her  place. 
Mr.  Upton  whispered  a  few  words  to  her,  but  evi- 
dently without  changing  her  mind,  for  he  told  the 
scholars  to  go  on  without  her.  That  was  the  last  of 
"choosing  sides"  during  that  term.  The  preceptor 
said  nothing  about  the  affair,  but  this  unhappy  exhibi- 
tion of  temper  probably  led  him  to  abandon  an  exer- 
cise that  had  been  a  favorite  one  with  the  scholars 
generally. 

Jessie  maintained  a  high  rank  as  a  scholar,  although 
she  labored  under  some  disadvantages,  no  small  por- 
tion of  her  time  being  occupied  with  her  work  at 
home,  and  her  duties  as  assistant  in  the  school-room. 
These  disadvantages,  however,  were  not  so  great  as 
they  seemed ;  for  what  she  lost,  on  account  of  them, 
was  made  up  to  her  in  other  ways.  Those  very 
obstacles  to  her  success  served  as  a  spur,  inciting  her 
to  effort,  and  leading  her  to  appreciate  better  the 
advantages  within  her  reach. 

Some  of  the  scholars  thought  Jessie  must  be  pecu- 
liarly gifted,  because  her  lessons  were  uniformly  so 


GOOD    MEMORIES.  213 

perfect.  But  this  was  not  the  case.  Study  was  study, 
to  her,  and  not  play.  It  was  not  because  she  learned 
easily,  but  because  she  worked  hard,  that  her  recita- 
tions rarely  fell  below  the  required  mark. 

"I'd  give  anything  in  the  world  if  I  could  have 
such  a  memory  as  you  Ve  got,"  said  Abby  Leonard  to 
Jessie,  one  day. 

"  Why,  do  you  think  I  Ve  got  a  good  memory  ?  " 
inquired  Jessie. 

"  Of  course  you  have,"  replfed  Abby.  "  You 
couldn't  learn  your  lessons  so  easily,  if  you  hadn't. 
And  then  only  think  how  little  time  you  have  to 
study,  too ! " 

"  I  think  my  memory  is  rather  poor,"  resumed  Jes- 
sie. "  I  get  almost  out  of  patience  with  myself,  some- 
times, it  takes  me  so  long  to  learn  anything.  If  you 
knew  how  hard  I  work  to  get  my  lessons,  you 
would  n't  think  I  learned  easily.  In  fact,  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  your  memory  was  better  than  mine,  after 
all." 

"  Why,  Jessie  Hapley,  how  absurd  !  —  when  every- 
body knows  you  've  got  such  a  splendid  memory ! " 
exclaimed  Abby. 


214  ABBT'S  MEMORY. 

"  Then  everybody  is  mistaken,"  replied  Jessie,  "  for 
my  memory  is  no  better  than  the  average,  if  it  is  as 
good.  What  was  that  long  story  I  heard  you  telling 
some  of  the  girls,  yesterday  noon  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  telling  them  the  adventures  of  Lord 
Adolphus  D'Orsay,  the  hero  of  a  novel  I  read  a  few 
days  ago,"  said  Abby.  "  He 's  a  beautiful  character, 
I  can  tell  you  —  tall,  and  handsome,  and  rich,  and  his 
father—" 

"  No  matter  about  that,  now,"  interrupted  Jessie ; 
"  what  I  want  to  find  out,  is,  how  long  it  took  you  to 
commit  that  story  to  memory  ?  " 

"Commit  it  to  memory?"  inquired  Abby,  with 
manifest  surprise.  "  You  did  n't  suppose  I  committed 
that  novel  to  memory,  did  you  ?  Why,  I  only  read  it 
once  —  and  I  went  through  it  like  lightning,  too,  and 
skipped  all  the  uninteresting  parts,  besides,  I  was 
dying  so  to  see  how  it  was  going  to  end." 

"  And  yet,"  added  Jessie,  "  you  could  relate,  several 
days  after,  a  large  part  of  this  story,  and  give  many 
minute  particulars  about  the  characters.  I  don't 
believe  my  memory  would  be  equal  to  such  a  feat  as 
that." 


IRREGULAR    VERBS.  215 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Abby,  "  that  was  only  a  story,  and 
it 's  easy  enough  to  remember  stories.  But  take  such 
a  lesson  as  our  class  had  this  morning  —  that  hateful 
list  of  irregular  verbs  —  I  can't  learn  it,  and  I  wont 
try.  I  should  think  Mr.  Upton  would  know  better 
than  to  tell  us  to  learn  such  a  stupid  mess  of  words — 
what  good  would  it  ever  do  us,  if  we  did  learn  them  ?  " 

"  I  learned  the  list  of  irregular  verbs  two  years  ago, 
and  I  did  not  find  it  half  so  hard  as  I  thought  it  would 
be,"  said  Jessie.  "  I  remember  all  about  it,  as  well  as 
though  it  was  last  week.  I  thought  it  was  a  hard 
lesson,  and  so  I  studied  it  just  before  I  went  to  bed, 
and  then  repeated  it  over  two  or  three  times,  after  I 
was  in  bed." 

"Why,  is  that  a  good  way  to  learn  a  hard  lesson  ?  " 
inquired  Abby. 

"  I  think  it  is,"  replied  % Jessie,  "  and  I  've  heard 
others  say  that  if  you  want  to  remember  words,  it  is  a 
good  rule  to  fix  them  in  the  memory  just  before  you 
go  to  bed.  They  say  the  best  way  to  teach  a  parrot 
to  talk,  is  to  darken  his  cage,  and  keep  repeating  the 
words  he  is  to  learn  while  he  is  going  to  sleep.  I 
kept  saying  over  the  irregular  verbs  until  I  fell  asleep, 


216  IRBEGULAR     VKBBS. 

and  the  next  morning  I  found  I  knew  them  by  heart, 
and  I  have  n't  forgotten  them  yet." 

"  Oh,  well,  that  just  proves  what  I  said,  that  you  've 
got  a  better  memory  than  I  have,"  added  Abby. 

"  No,  Abby,  it  proves  no  such  thing,"  replied  Jessie. 
"  You  say  you  can't  learn  the  list,  and  you  wont  try ; 
I  said,  I  can  learn  it,  and  I  will  —  and  I  did.  That  is 
all  the  difference  between  us.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
could  commit  the  list  to  memory  without  much  trouble, 
if  you  would  only  think  so,  and  would  try.  That's 
the  secret  of  good  lessons." 

"I  don't  believe  I  could  learn  that  lesson,  if  I 
should  study  it  a  week  —  it 's  a  long  string  of  words, 
without  any  sense  or  reason,  and  I  can't  learn  such 
things,"  said  Abby. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can  learn  it  if  you  will  only  deter- 
mine to  do  so,"  replied  Je/sie. 

"  But  I  know  I  never  could  learn  it  —  it  is  n't  in 
me,"  said  Abby,  and  she  declined  further  conversation 
on  the  subject  by  walking  off. 

Jessie  was  on  the  right  track,  in  attributing  the 
difference  between  her  memory  and  that  of  Abby  to 
a  will  and  a  wont.  She  might  have  carried  the  com- 


THE     CONTRAST. 


217 


parison  still  farther,  and  something  like  the  following, 
I  think,  would  have  been  the  result : 

THE  GOOD  AND  THE  POOR  SCHOLAR. 


JESSIE. 

Her  motto  is,  Learn  all  you 
can. 

She  makes  sacrifices  to  ob- 
tain an  education,  and  fully 
appreciates  the  privileges  she 
enjoys. 

She  thinks  much  of  the  fu- 
ture benefit  to  be  derived  from 
her  studies. 

She  makes  it  a  rule  to  thor- 
oughly master  every  task  allot- 
ted to  her,  and  to  understand 
what  she  learns. 

She  diligently  improves  her 
time. 

She  concentrates  her  mind 
upon  her  studies. 

Result.  —  Her  lessons  are  per- 
fect. 


Her  motto  is,  Get  through  as 
easily  as  possible. 

Her  privileges  are  them- 
selves a  burden  and  a  hard- 
ship, and  she  longs  to  get  rid 
of  them. 

She  cares  far  less  about  future 
good  thaft  present  ease. 

She  thoroughly  masters  noth- 
ing, and  is  satisfied  if  she  can 
repeat  the  words  of  a  lesson, 
without  troubling  herself  about 
ideas. 

She  wastes  many  precious 
hours. 

Her  mind  is  seldom  earnestly 
fixed  on  her  studies. 

Result.  —  Her  lessons  are  fail- 
ures. 


It  was  by  a  diligent  improvement  of  her  time,  and 
a   concentration   of   her  mind  on    her   studies,  that 
Jessie  mainly  owed  her  high  standing  in  the  academy. 
19 


218  CONCENTRATION. 

"When  she  studied,  she  studied  in  earnest.  It  is  no 
easy  thing  to  fix  the  mind  attentively  upon  one  sub- 
ject, and  exclude  every  thing  else.  Martin  Luther 
says  :  "  Let  any  one  try  how  long  he  can  rest  on  one 
idea  he  proposed  himself,  or  take  one  hour  and  avow 
that  he  will  tell  me  all  his  thoughts.  I  am  sure  he 
will  be  ashamed  before  himself,  and  afraid  to  say  what 
ideas  have  passed  through  the  head,  lest  he  should  be 
taken  for  a  mad  dog,  and  be  chained."  And  to  illus- 
trate this,  he  relates  an  anecdote  of  St.  Bernard,  who 

once  complained  to  a  friend   that   he   found  it  very 

i 
difficult  to  pray  aright,  and  could  not  even  pronounce 

the  Lord's  prayer  once  without  a  host  of  strange 
thoughts.  His  friend  was  astonished,  and  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that  he  could  fix  his  thoughts  on  his 
prayer  without  any  difficulty.  Bernard  offered  him 
the  wager  of  a  fine  horse,  on  condition  he  should 
commence  forthwith.  The  friend  commenced,  "  Our 
Father,"  etc.,  but  before  he  had  finished  the  first  peti- 
tion, it  occurred  to  him,  if  he  should  gain  the  horse, 
whether  he  would  also  receive  saddle  and  bridle.  In 
short,  he  was  so  entangled  in  his  own  thoughts,  that  ha 
had  to  quit,  and  give  up  the  prize. 


EARLY    DISCIPLINE.  219 

% 

It  should  be  added,  that  this  difficulty,  which  every 
student  encounters,  can  in  a  great  measure  be  over- 
come, by  early  culture  and  discipline.  The  best 
scholars  are  those  who  can  control  and  direct  theii 
thoughts,  and  keep  them  fixed  upon  a  subject  as  long 
as  they  please.  The  extent  to  which  this  power  may 
be  acquired  is  wonderful.  There  is  a  school  in  New 
England  in  which  many  of  the  pupils  have  accom- 
plished the  feat  of  multiplying  nine  figures  by  nine 
figures,  mentally,  or  "in  the  head;"  and  the  teacher 
thinks  any  child  of  ordinary  capacity  can  learn  to  do 
this. 

Some  of  the  scholars  wondered  that  two  girls  so 
little  alike  as  Jessie  and  Abby,  should  be  such  good 
friends  as  they  seemed  to  be.  The  intimacy,  how- 
ever, appeared  greater  than  it  really  was,  because. 
Abby,  by  her  upstart  ways  and  her  bad  temper,  had 
alienated  nearly  all  the  other  girls,  and  had  no  bosom 
friends  among  them.  Jessie's  forbearance  and  kind- 
ness had  won  her  affection,  and  the  poor  drunkard's 
daughter,  whom  she  at  first  treated  with  contempt,  and 
then  regarded  with  a  patronizing  air,  she  now  looked 
upon  as  her  superior,  whose  friendship  was  to  be 


220  NOVEL-READING. 

* 

prized.  On  the  part  of  Jessie,  it  is  true,  there  was 
no  particular  partiality  for  Abby.  There  was  little, 
either  in  the  manners  or  the  character  of  the  young 
scion  of  aristocracy,  that  was  attractive,  and  if  Jessie 
had  not  been  guided  by  the  golden  rule,  and  influenced 
by  a  kindly  heart,  her  intercourse  with  Abby  would 
have  been  very  slight. 

Abby  was  a  great  novel  reader.  She  eagerly  de- 
voured everything  in  the  shape  of  fiction  that  she 
could  lay  her  hands  on.  In  fact,  her  reading  was 
wholly  confined  to  this  class  of  books.  She  would 
often  read  an  entire  novel  in  one  or  two  days,  neglect- 
ing everything  else,  except  attendance  at  school,  until 
it  was  finished.  This  habit  interfered  so  much  with 
her  studies,  and  was  so  manifestly  injuring  both  her 
mind  and  heart,  that  Mr.  Upton  tried  to  induce  her  to 
break  it  up.  He  told  her  that  her  devotion  to  novels 
would  destroy  her  taste  for  useful  reading  and  study  ; 
would  give  her  false  views' of  life  ;  would  weaken  her 
intellect,  deaden  her  sympathy  for  real  sorrow,  and 
harden  her  heart ;  would  corrupt  her  principles,  and 
break  down  the  distinction  in  her  mind  between  vice 
and  virtue,  shame  and  glory ;  and  would  disincline 


NOVEL-READING.  221 

and  unfit  her  for  the  duties  of  actual  life.  All  his 
arguments  and  warnings,  however,  were  of  no  avail. 
The  spell  was  already  so  strongly  upon  her,  that  she 
could  not,  or  would  not,  break  from  it,  and  her  ex- 
ploits, in  the  way  of  novel-reading,  were  limited  only 
by  the  somewhat  meagre  supply  which  that  small 
town  afforded.  She  occasionally  tried  to  tempt  Jessie 
to  read  one  of  her  favorite  tales,  but  never  succeeded. 
Jessie  had  no  time  to  waste  over  such  books,  even  had 
not  her  principles  and  inclination  stood  in  the  way  of 
novel-reading. 

19* 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    FEW    BUSINESS    MATTERS. 

"  TESSIE  'S  a  first-rate  hand  to  drive  a  bargain  — 
you  ought  to  have  heard  her  beat  Mr.  Simpson 
down,  this  afternoon,"  said  Oscar,  at  the  tea-table,  one 
evening. 

"  I  did  n't  beat  him  down,  nor  ask  him  to  take  one 
cent  less  —  he  put  his  price  down  of  his  own  accord," 
replied  Jessie. 

"  Oh  yes,  that 's  the  beauty  of  it,"  retorted  Oscar. 
"  She  did  n't  say  hardly  anything,  but  she  acted  it 
out  completely,  and  she  got  the  dress  for  her  own 
price.  I  call  that  the  perfection  of  beating  down. 
I'm  going  to  get  you  to  make  my  purchases,  here- 
after, Jessie ;  for  you  know  folks  say  I  'm  extravagant, 
when  I  buy  anything." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  you  to  get 


BEATING    DOWN.  223 

somebody  to  do  your  trading,"  replied  Jessie.  "  You 
gave  seventy-five  cents  for  that  flimsy  cravat,  last 
week,  and  I'll  engage  to  buy  the  silk  and  make  a 
better  one  for  one-half  the  money." 

"Oh  well,  don't  say  another  word  about  that" 
replied  Oscar,  whose  cravat  speculation  was  not  a 
very  pleasant  thing  to  dwell  upon.  "  What  can't  be 
cured  must  be  endured.  But  I  wont  get  shaved  in 
that  way  again,  for  I  've  engaged  you  to  do  my  shop- 
ping. And  remember  you  must  beat  them  down  just 
as  you  would  for  yourself." 

"  But  I  do  n't  make  a  practice  of  beating  the  shop- 
keepers down,  for  myself,"  said  Jessie.  "If  a  man 
asks  more  for  a  thing  than  I  can  afford  to  give,  I  tell 
him  so ;  and  if  he  has  a  mind  to  offer  it  for  less,  very 
well,  but  if  he  does  n't,  I  can't  trade." 

"Yes,  you  understand  how  to  do  it,"  said  Oscar, 
with  a  chuckle. 

"Do  you  call  that  beating  a  man  down,  Mrs. 
Page  ?  "  inquired  Jessie. 

"No,  I  think  that  is  fair  enough,"  replied  Mrs. 
Page.  "I  don't  approve  of  beating  a  man  down 
below  a  fair  price,  on  the  one  hand,  and  I  don't 


224  THE    DBESS    PATTERN. 

approve  of  giving  more  for  an  article  than  it  is  worth, 
on  the  other.  I  try  to  act  on  these  principles,  when  I 
am  trading.  If  I  can't  afford  to  pay  a  fair  price  for  * 
thing,  I  conclude  that  I  can't  afford  to  buy  it." 

"  That  is  just  the  way  I  feel,"  added  Jessie.  "  But 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  almost  ashamed  to  take  that 
dress  pattern,  although  I  do  n't  think  I  was  to  blame. 
It  came  to  just  nine  shillings,  and  there  was  nothing 
else  in  the  store  cheaper,  that  suited  me.  But  I  could 
not  afford  to  go  over  a  dollar  for  a  dress,  and  I  told 
Mr.  Simpson  so.  '  Oh,'  he  said,  '  it  was  no  matter 
about  the  money  now  —  I  could  pay  any  time  when  I 
had  it.'  I  told  him  I  made  it  a  rule  never  to  run  in 
debt  for  anything.  Then  he  said  I  might  have  the 
dress  for  eight  and  three  pence  —  " 

"You  mean  a  dollar  and  thirty-seven  cents  —  we 
have  no  shillings  and  pence  in  our  currency,"  inter- 
rupted Marcus,  who  always  set  his  face  against  this 
common  but  very  un-American  way  of  reckoning. 

"Yes,  a  dollar  and  thirty -seven,"  continued  Jessie, 
"  and  then  he  said  he  'd  take  a  dollar  and  a  quarter, 
which  was  just  what  the  goods  cost  him.  But  I  told 
him  I  could  not  go  over  a  dollar,  and  then  he  proposed 


LOWERING    THE    PBICE. 

to  split  the  difference,  and  let  me  have  it  for  a  dollar 
and  nine  pence  —  I  mean  a  dollar  and  twelve  cents. 
But  the  trimmings  would  make  the  price  count  up  so, 
that  I  concluded  I  could  n't  go  one  cent  over  a  dollar, 
and  I  started  off,  and  got  as  far  as  the  door-steps,  when 
he  called  me  back,  and  told  me  I  might  have  it  for  a 
dollar.  I  had  no  idea  at  first  that  he  would  let  me 
have  it  at  that  price,  and  I  did  n't  as-k  him  to  take  off 
a  cent,  nor  think  of  beating  him  down  ;  but  I  declare 
I  felt  really  ashamed,  when  he  called  me  back.  If 
it  cost  him  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  it  seems  mean  for 
me  to  buy  it  for  a  dollar.  What  do  you  think  of  it, 
Mrs.  Page  —  did  I  do  wrong?" 

"  Xo,  under  the  circumstances  I  can't  say  that  you 
did  wrong,"  replied  Mrs.  Page.  "  If  you  could  not 
afford  to  give  over  a  dollar,  it  was  right  for  you  to  stop 
at  that  mark ;  and  if  Mr.  Simpson  fell  of  his  own 
accord  to  that  price,  that  was  his  own  affair.  If  you 
had  had  plenty  of  money,  or  if  you  had  coaxed  him 
down  to  a  dollar,  the  case  would  have  been  different." 

"Merchants  sometimes  find  it  for  their  advantage 
to  sell  an  article  for  less  than  it  costs,  rather  than  not 
dispose  of  it,"  observed  Marcus.  "  That  was  probably 


226  SURMISES. 

the  case  with  Mr.  Simpson.  Perhaps  the  dress  pat* 
tern  was  the  last  of  a  lot." 

"No,  it  was  from  a  new  lot,  just  received,"  replied 
Jessie. 

"  Then,"  continued  Marcus,  "  perhaps  he  thought 
you  might  go  somewhere  else  and  buy,  and  he  should 
lose  your  trade ;  or  perhaps  he  was  a  little  short  for 
money;  or  perhaps  he  knew  you  fancied  the  dress, 
and  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart  he  determined  you 
should  have  it,  at  some  price  or  other.  He  had  a 
reason,  no  doubt,  for  doing  as  he  did," 

"  Well,  I  can't  bear  to  be  thought  mean,"  continued 
Jessie;  "but  poor  folks  have  to  put  up  with  many 
things  they  dislike,  and  that  is  one  of  them." 

"There  was  nothing  mean  in  doing  as.  you  did," 
said  Miss  Lee,  "and  I  do  not  believe  Mr.  Simpson 
thought  so.  I  do  n't  approve  of  driving  a  hard  bar~ 
gain,  any  more  than  I  do  of  paying  extravagant  prices 
for  things.  There  is  a  golden  mean  between  the  two, 
which  honest  people  ought  to  seek  after.  I  think  you 
were  wise  in  refusing  to  run  in  debt.  Spending 
money  before  we  get  it  is  one  great  source  of  extrava* 
gance,  and  keeps  many  people  poor  all  their  lives." 


BONALD'S  DEBT.  227 

"  Everybody  ought  to  get  out  of  debt  just  as  quick 
as  they  can,  had  n't  they  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Miss  Lee. 

"  Then,  mother,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  have  fifty 
cents  —  I  want  to  pay  my  debts,"  continued  Ronald. 

"  Your  debts !  Pray  what  do  you  owe  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Page. 

"  I  owe  a  boy  fifty  cents,  and  he 's  dunned  me  for  it 
two  or  three  tunes,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  Who  is  he,  and  how  came  you  to  owe  him  fifty 
cents  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Page. 

"The  fellow  is  Joe  Baker,"  replied  Ronald.  "I 
lost  my  Reader,  about  a  month  ago,  and  as  he  did  n't 
use  his,  he  wanted  to  sell  it  to  me,  so  I  bought  it." 

"  How  came  you  to  lose  your  Reader  ? "  inquired 
Marcus. 

"  I  do  n't  know  —  I  never  could  tell  what  became 
of  it,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  come  to  me  or  to  Marcus,  if  you 
wanted  a  new  one  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Page. 

"I  didn't  like  to  —  I  thought  you  would  think  I 
was  careless,  to  lose  my  old  one,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  so  you  ran  into  debt,  with  nothing  to  pay, 


228  DUNNED. 

trusting  I  would  foot  the  bill  some  time  or  other?" 
said  Mrs.  Page. 

"  I  thought  I  could  sell  some  maple  sugar,  and  raise 

the  money,  but "  Die  family  ate  up  nearly  all  the 

sugar,  he  intended  to  say,  but  did  not. 

"When  did  you  agree  to  pay  Baker?"  inquired 
Marcus. 

"  Oh,  he  said  I  might  pay  him  any  time  when  I  had 
the  money,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  And  he  has  already  asked  you  for  it  two  or  three 
times  ?  "  inquired  Marcus. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  duns  me  every  time  he  sees  me,"  said 
Ronald. 

"You  are  experiencing  some  of  the  pleasures  of 
being  in  debt,"  remarked  Miss  Lee. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  a  good  lesson  to  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Page. 

"  "Will  you  let  me  have  the  fifty  cents  ?  "  inquired 
Ronald. 

"  I  will  talk  with  you  about  that,  some  other  time," 
replied  Mrs.  Page,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 

Mrs.  Page  and  Marcus,  after  talking  over  Ronald's 
financial  embarrassment,  concluded  it  would  be  better 


SETTLEMENT.  22S 

not  to  relieve  him  at  once,  but  to  let  him  bear  the 
burden  of  his  debt  until  he  could  earn  the  money  to 
pay  it  up.  They  thought  that  by  adopting  this  course 
the  transaction  would  make  a  deeper  impression  on 
his  mind,  and  perhaps  serve  as  a  useful  lesson  to  him 
as  long  as  he  lived.  Joseph  Baker,  who  held  the 
demand  against  Ronald,  attended  the  academy,  and 
Marcus,  after  consulting  him,  effected  a  settlement  on 
the  following  terms  :  Ronald  gave  his  promissory  note 
to  Joseph  for  the  amount  due,  running  three  months 
from  the  date  of  the  purchase  ;  and  Joseph,  in  return, 
gave  a  receipt  in  full  for  the  demand.  Ronald's  note 

ran  as  follows : 

i 

Highburg,  March  12,  185-. 
50  cents. 

Three  months  after  date,  for  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay  to 
~*»seph  Baker,  or  order,  Fifty  Cents,  with  interest. 

RONALD  D.  PAGE. 

As  the  note  was  dated  back  one  month,  Ronald  had 
but  two  months  in  which  to  raise  the  money.  He 
objected  to  putting  the  note  on  interest,  the  amount 
was  so  small;  but  Marcus  told  him  this  was  the 
proper  way  to  do,  and  added  that  possibly  the  note 
28 


230  THE    RECEIPT. 

would  not  be  paid  when  due,  in  which  case  the  inter- 
est would  be  larger. 

The  receipt  Ronald  received  was  as  follows  : 

Highburg,  March  12,  185-. 

RONALD  D.  PAGE, 

To  JOSEPH  BAKER,  Dr. 

For  one  second-hand  "  Header,"         -       ...         50  cents. 
Received  payment  by  note,  JOSEPH  BAKEB. 

Marcus  told  Joseph  that  if  he  should  happen  to 
want  the  money  at  any  time  before  the  note  was  due, 
to  bring  it  to  him,  and  he  would  "  discount "  it  —  that 
is,  give  him  the  money  for  the  note ;  in  which  case 
Ronald  would  owe  the  debt  to  Marcus,  instead  of  to 
Joseph.  This  transfer  could  be  made,  because  the 
note  was  payable  "  to  Joseph  Baker,  or  order  ;  "  and 
all  Joseph  would  have  to  do,  to  make  it  the  property 
of  another,  would  be,  to  write  his  name  across  the 
back  of  the  note. 

Jessie's  rule,  never  to  buy  anything  she  could  not 
pay  for  at  the  time,  is  a  wise  one,  for  a  person  situ- 
ated as  she  was.  She  had  another  excellent  business 
habit,  which  all  might  imitate  with  profit.  She  kept 
a  strict  account  of  all  her  money  transactions.  Every 


THE    ACCOUNT    BOOK.  231 

cent  she  received  or  expended  was  noted  down  in  a 
little  book  kept  for  the  purpose.  She  thus  cultivated 
habits  of  order  and  economy,  had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  just  where  her  money  went,  and  could 
always  tell  what  any  particular  article  cost  her,  and 
how  long  it  lasted,  by  turning  to  her  book. 

But  Jessie's  account  book  was  after,  all  a  small 
affair.  The  columns  of  dollars  and  cents,  on  both  the 
Cr.  and  Dr.  side,  increased  slowly;  for  the  reason 
that  dollars  and  cents  were  a  very  scarce  article  with 
her.  The  little  pittance  which  her  mother  was  able 
to  spare  her,  was  all  the  money  that  passed  through 
her  hands,  and  this,  with  strict  economy  and  self- 
denial,  was  barely  sufficient  to  clothe  her  decently. 
No  one  knew  how  sadly  she  was  sometimes  strait- 
ened for  money,  for  she  never  complained  of  her 
many  disappointments  and  deprivations. 

But  though  Jessie  did  not  complain,  she  often 
sighed  in  secret  for  the  day  when  she  should  be  free 
from  dependence  and  poverty  —  when  she  should 
become  a  help,  instead  of  being  a  burden,  to  her 
mother.  A  door  of  deliverance  opened  to  her  sooner 
than  she  anticipated.  One  day,  on  returning  from 


232  AN     UNEXPECTED     OFFER. 

school,  she  found  her  uncle  Morrison  at  the  house, 
waiting  to  see  her.  He  lived  about  forty  miles  dis- 
tant, and  as  he  had  but  seldom  visited  Highburg,  when 
Jessie's  parents  were  living  there,  his  appearance  was 
quite  unexpected.  He  remained  with  the  family  over 
night,  and  in  the  evening  explained  to  his  niece  the 
object  of  his  visit.  About  six  months  previous  to  this 
time,  he  had  buried  his  only  child,  a  daughter.  His 
wife  had  been  very  low-spirited  ever  since,  and  both 
of  them  deeply  felt  their  loss.  .They  now  wished  to 
adopt  Jessie  in  place  of  the  lost  child,  receiving  her 
into  their  home  as  a  daughter,  and  lavishing  upon  her 
the  care  and  affection  of  parental  hearts.  They 
knew  something  of  Jessie's  amiable  disposition,  varied 
accomplishments,  and  excellent  character,  and  judged 
that  she  was  not  unworthy  of  the  great  favor  they 
sought  to  confer  upon  her. 

Jessie  did  not  instantly  accept  the  offer,  with  pro- 
fuse thanks,  as  Mr.  Morrison  expected  she  would,  but 
she  promised  to  give  her  answer  the  next  morning. 
It  was  no  trifling  struggle  which  she  passed  through 
that  night,  in  coming  to  a  decision  on  her  uncle's 
proposition.  If  she  accepted  it,  she  would  at  once 


MB.    MORRISON.  233 

be  delivered  from  griping  poverty,  would  cease  to  be 
an  expense  to  her  mother,  and  would  enjoy  the  com- 
forts and  advantages  of  a  permanent  home.  If  this 
had  been  all,  she  might  have  easily  decided  the  ques- 
tion. But  there  was  something  more  to  be  taken  into 
the  account.  Mr.  Morrison,  who  was  a  large,  jovial 
and  good-hearted,  though  rather  coarse  and  unculti- 
vated man,  kept  the  tavern  in  the  village  where  he 
lived.  Jessie  had  once  visited  him,  and  had  a  vivid 
recollection  of  his  house,  which  was  pervaded  from 
top  to  bottom  with  a  mingled  flavor  of  alcohol  and 
tobacco,  and  was  the  favorite  resort,  especially  during 
the  evening  and  the  Sabbath,  of  a  set  of  idle  and  not 
very  prepossessing  men,  whose  low  and  profane  con- 
versation sometimes  penetrated  beyond  the  piazza,  and 
the  bar-room.  Mr.  Morrison,  though  apparently  an 
honest,  well-meaning  man,  seemed  to  have  no  religious 
principle.  He  was  not  a  church-goer,  but  spent  the 
Sabbath  pretty  much  as  he  did  other  days.  He 
relished  the  coarse  jest,  and  the  story  spiced  with 
vulgarity  or  profaneness,  as  much  as  did  any  of  the 
idlers  who  frequented  his  house ;  and  Jessie  had  a 
20* 


234  THE    DECISION. 

suspicion  that  he  slyly  relished  his  own  liquors,  too, 
but  of  this  she  was  not  positive. 

Such  was  the  man  who  proposed  to  become  a  father 
to  Jessie.  He  was  doubtless  kindly  disposed,  had 
ample  means,  and  would  do  all  for  her  that  he  had 
promised.  His  wife  was  an  excellent  woman,  with 
whom  Jessie  would  have  esteemed  it  a  privilege  to 
live.  The  temptation  was  strong,  but  the  next  morn- 
ing Jessie  was  prepared  to  give  a  firm  and  decided 
answer  to  her  uncle.  She  told  him  she  thought  she 
had  better  remain  where  she  was  —  that  she  was  with 
kind  friends,  and  should  soon  be  fitted  to  support  her- 
self by  teaching.  Mr.  Morrison  was  surprised  at  her 
decision,  and  tried  to  reason  her  out  of  it,  pointing  out 
the  advantages  she  would  enjoy,  if  she  went  to  live 
with  him.  Mistaking  the  ground  of  her  refusal,  he 
told  her  that  if  she  did  not  wish  to  be  dependent  upon 
any  one,  he  would  give  her  a  first-rate  education,  after 
which  she  might  have  the  privilege  of  supporting  her- 
self by  teaching,  if  she  preferred.  But  his  argu- 
ments and  persuasions  all  failed,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  go  home  without  her.  He  was  not  without  hope, 
however,  that  she  would  yet  "  come  to  her  senses,"  as 


A    WISE     CHOICE  235 

he  expressed  it  —  for  be  evidently  thought  she  was 
besidd  herself  in  rejecting  such  a  fine  offer ;  and  he 
told  her  he  would  come  for  her  at  any  tune  within  a 
few  weeks,  if  she  would  write.  She  did  write,  to 
thank  her  aunt  for  her  kindness,  and  to  express  her 
regret  that  she  felt  compelled  to  decline  the  liberal 
offer,  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  She  pre- 
ferred poverty  and  toil,  hi  her  present  position,  rather 
than  money  and  ease,  coupled  with  influences  that 
might  work  disastrously  upon  her  character  and  her 
happiness. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    NEW    GAME. 

rTlHE  "  Home  Wreath "  continued  to  make  its  ap- 
pearance promptly  every  Saturday  afternoon,  and 
had  of  late  acquired  new  popularity,  by  an  attractive 
feature  it  had  adopted.  It  was  now  illustrated,  almost 
every  week,  by  original  drawings,  usually  executed  by 
Miss  Lee  or  Jessie.  These  sketchings  were  small, 
and  not  very  elaborate,  but  they  served  to  give  a  new 
interest  to  the  sheet.  They  were  entitled  "  Family 
Portraits"  and  at  first  were  confined  to  likenesses  of 
creatures  kept  on  the  farm  or  in  the  house.  Rover, 
the  faithful  spaniel,  was  sketched  to  the  life,  and  so 
was  Goldy,  the  cat.  The  two  horses,  Charley  and 
Kittie,  Cora,  the  calf,  and  a  hen  with  a  brood  of 
chickens,  were  also  honored  with  places  in  the  gal- 
lery. No  one  thought  of  extending  this  collection  of 


THE    SOCIABLE    CONTRIBUTOR.      237 

portraits  beyond  the  domain  of  the  brute  portion  of 
the  family,,  until,  one  Saturday  afternoon,  the  whole 
house  was  startled  by  an  editorial  announcement  in  the 
"  Wreath,"  to  the  effect  that  "  the  portrait  of  one  of 
its  contributors  would  be  given  next  week."  The 
editor  positively  refused  to  let  any  one  into  the  secret, 
and  no  one  else  appeared  to  know  anything  about  Ihe 
matter.  Curiosity  was  excited  almost  to  a  painful 
degree,  among  the  young  folks,  and  all  put  on  and 
wore  for  a  week  their  most  amiable  looks,  each  ofie 
anxious  to  appear  as  pretty  as  possible  on  paper,  if  he 
or  she  were  the  favored  individual.  After  a  week 

of  suspense,  Sat- 
urday came,  and 
with  it  came  the 
"Wreath."  Kate 
got  first  posses- 
sion of  the  sheet, 
and  as  she  opened 
it,  and  the  an- 
nexed "  portrait " 
disclosed  itself,  la- 
belled "  Our  Sociable  Contributor?  there  was  a  peal 


238 


ANOTHER    PORTRAIT. 


of  laughter  from  the  other  members  of  the  family 
who  were  peeping  over  her  shoulders,  that  woke  the 
echoes  under  the  old  roof.  Marcus  was  of  course  the 
hero  of  the  picture.  He  was  an  attentive  reader  of 
the  news  of  the  day,  and  had  a  habit  of  getting  so 
absorbed  hi  the  paper  as  sometimes  to  become  oblivi- 
ous to  remarks  addressed  to  him,  so  that  the  boys  used 
to  say  the  newspaper  made  him  deaf.  The  likeness 
was  unanimously  voted  a  capital  one,  inasmuch  as 
there  was  no  mistaking  who  it  was  intended  for. 

A  week  or  two  after 
this,  the  portrait  of  an- 
other contributor  was 
promised,  ancKa  lively 
sensation  was  again 
awakened.  Expecta- 
tion was  on  tip-toe  until 
the  next  number  of  the 
"  Wreath  "  appeared, 
when  a  pair  of  boy's 
legs  on  stilts,  labelled 
"  Our  High-minded  Con-> 
tributar?  sent  another  merry  shout  through  the  house. 


A    LITERARY    ENTERPRISE.  239 

A  mania  for  stilts  just  then  prevailed  among  the  boys, 
and  Ronald,  for  several  days,  had  scarcely  deigned  to 
walk  upon  the  earth,  but  "intent  on  high  designs," 
went  awkwardly  hobbling  round  on  two  long  poles,  to 
the  amazement  of  the  cows  and  chickens,  and  some- 
what to  the  risk  of  his  limbs  and  trousers.  •  Of 
course,  nobody  could  mistake  this  portrait ;  but  Ronald 
seemed  much  disappointed  because  the  artist  (whether 
Aunt  Fanny  or  Jessie,  he  could  not  find  out,)  did  not 
finish  it  up,  to  his  full  length.  And,  really,  it  was 
provoking  to  come  so  near  being  immortalized,  and 
yet  miss  it. 

But  Ronald's  mind  was  not  altogether  taken  up 
with  stilts,  April-fool  hoaxes,  or  maple  sugar  specula- 
tions. He  had  been  for  several  weeks,  and  was  at 
this  very  time,  at  odd  moments,  engaged  on  a  literary 
enterprise  of  considerable  magnitude,  for  a  boy  but 
half-way  into  his  thirteenth  year.  He  let  Jessie, 
alone,  into  the  secret,  and  received  from  her  some  use- 
ful suggestions  and  assistance  ;  and  a  paragraph  from 
her  pen  in  the  "  Wreath,"  was  the  first  announcement 
of  the  matter  to  the  rest  of  the  family.  The  para- 
graph was  as  follows : 


240  THE     ANNOUNCEMENT. 

"A  NEW  PLEASURE.  —  We  learn  that  a  young 
member  of  our  family  will  in  a  few  days  issue,  in 
manuscript,  a  new  and  very  amusing  game  of  trans- 
formations, upon  which  he  has  been  engaged  for  some 
time.  We  predict  that  it  will  prove  quite  popular 
with  the  young  folks.  Besides  the  amusement  it  will 
afford,  it  has  a  peculiar  feature  which  will  transform  it 
at  pleasure  into  a  puzzling  and  useful  exercise  for  the 
intellect.  Our  readers  will  probably  know  more 
about  it,  before  the  next  number  of  the  '  Wreath' 
appears.  j." 

Immediately  on  this  announcement,  there  was  great 
inquiry  about  the  "  new  pleasure,"  and  Ronald  was 
compelled  to  produce  his  game,  the  moment  it  had 
received  the  finishing  touches.  As  this  game  will 
perhaps  amuse  my  young  readers,  I  shall  copy  it 
here,  though  it  is  rather  long.  At  the  end  of  Peter's 
"  story,"  will  be  found  a  list  of  phrases,  which,  before 
playing  the  game,  should  be  copied  off,  each  upon  a 
separate  slip  of  card  or  paper.*  One  person  should 
be  selected  to  read  the  story  aloud,  and  the  cards 
should  be  distributed  among  the  rest  of  the  company. 

*  This  game  may  be  procured  of  the  publishers  in  separate 
form,  and  put  up  in  a  neat  paper  box. 


DIRECTIONS.  241 

Whenever  the  reader  comes  to  a  blank  in  the  narra- 
tive, he  should  look  to  some  one  of  the  company,  who 
must  immediately  read  aloud  the  uppermost  card  in 
his  pile ;  and  so  the  game  proceeds  to  the  end.  Of 
course  the  story  will  read  differently  every  time  the 
game  is  tried,  for  the  transformations  it  is  capable  of 
are  infinite.  No,  not  exactly  infinite,  which  means 
without  limits ;  but  it  would  take  many  lines  of  figures 
to  express  the  precise  number,"  as  any  reader  who  has 
studied  arithmetic  as  far  as  permutation  can  easily 
satisfy  himself.  This  game  is  called  the  "  Game  of 
Transformations." 

There  is  another  game  which  Ronald  called  the 
"  Game  6"f  Literary  Patchwork,"  that  may  be  played 
with  the  same  cards.  One  person  reads  the  story,  as 

in  the  other  game,  and  the  company,  instead  of  taking 

* 
the  cards  hap-hazard,  select  at   each  pause  one  that 

they  suppose  will  fit  the  sentence.  If  the  match 
proves  in  any  case  incongruous  or  absurd,  the  reader 
may  be  empowered  to  exact  a  forfeit  from  the 
offender. 

It  should  also  be  noticed  that  this  is  not  merely  a 
game  to  amuse  an  idle  hour.     It  is  also  a  "  Literary 
21 


242  THE     GAME. 

Puzzle,"  designed  to  exercise  and  sharpen  the  wits ; 
for  it  is  so  arranged  that  it  can  be  put  together  so  as 
to  make  sense,  from  beginning  to  end.  There  is  a  par- 
ticular place  for  each  phrase,  but  it  will  call  into  exer- 
cise some  ingenuity,  judgment  and  carefulness,  to  give 
to  each  "  Jack  "  its  own  appropriate  "  Gill."  It  will, 
however,  be  a  profitable  exercise,  and,  I  think,  will 
repay  the  young  reader  for  the  attempt,  even  if  he 
should  not  be  perfectly  successful. 
Now  for  the  game : 

PETER  CODDLE'S  TRIP  TO  NEW-YORK. 

Mr.  Peter  Coddle,  of  Hogginsville,  on  reaching  the 
mature  age  of  eighteen,  was  profoundly  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  he  needed  a  larger  field  in  which  to 
develop  his  powers,  and  make  his  fortune.  So,  one 
fine  morning,  having  dressed  himself  in  his  new  Sun- 
day suit,  and  tied  up  his  old  clothes  in  a  cotton  hand- 
kerchief, he  bade  adieu  to  the  old  folks,  and  with  high 
hopes  in  his  heart,  and  about  twenty-five  dollars 
tucked  away  in  his  pocket,  he  set  out  for  the  city  of 
New- York. 

A  few  days  after,  to  the  great  surprise  of  all  Hog- 
ginsville, Peter  suddenly  re-appeared,  in  a  very  dirty 
and  shabby  suit,  and  with  an  anxious  and  wo-begoue 


THE     GAME.  243 

countenance.  He  was  evidently  in  a  very  excited 
state  of  mind,  and  gave  a  most  extraordinary  account 
of  his  adventures.  Meeting-houses  and  saw-mills, 
thunder-claps  and  three-legged  stools,  salt  fish  and 
BWl-frogs,  were  so  strangely  jumbled  together  in  his 
mind,  that  he  apparently  could  not  distinguish  one 
from  the  other.  The  'squire  said  he  had  undoubtedly 
been  drugged  with  stupefying  poisons,  by  some  villain 
in  that  great  and  wicked  city  of  New- York.  The 
doctdr  shook  his,  head,  and  said  he  exhibited  symp- 
toms of  a  certain  disease  with  a  learned  name,  suf- 
ferers from  which  were  accustomed  to  transpose  their 
words  and  sentences  in  laughable  ways ;  and  he 
recommended  "  a  good  honest  dose  of  calomel,"  as  the 
best  thing  for  him.  Others  thought  the  unfortunate 
young  man  had  gone  crazy ;  but  all  finally  agreed 
that  it  was  possible  he  had  been  drinking  something 
stronger  than  country  well-water.  Which  of  these 
theories  was  the  true  one,  I  shall  not  undertake  to 
decide,  but  will  hasten  to  tell  you  his  story,  just  as'  he 
related  it  to  the  wondering  Hogginsvillians  : 

PETER'S    STORY. 

Well,  boys,  you  know  I  streaked  it  off  a-foot  bright 
and  early  Monday  morning,  for  the  Cranktown  railroad 

depot.     I  had  all  my  baggage  tied  up  in It 

was  n't  very  heavy,  you  know,  for  there  was  n't  any- 


244  THE    GAME. 

thing  in  it  but ,  and ,  and ,  and 

But  by-and-bj  I  began  to  grow  sort  of  tired, 

and  just  then  there  came  along riding  in 

something  that  looked  like So  I  sung  out, 

"  Give  us  a  ride,  will  ye  ? "  says  I ;  and  says  fre, 
"  Yes^ump  in,"  says  he,  as  civil  as  ......     So  in  I 

jumps,  and  then  we  travelled,  I  tell  you.     Why,  we 

went  like Says  I,  "  She 's  running  away, 

aint  she  ?  "  says  I.     Says  he,  "  No,  she 's  as  steady  as 

,  if  you  know  how  steady  that,  is,"  says  he. 

Well,  just  then started  up  suddenly  from 

near  the  road,  and  frightened  the  mare  like 

all  possessed.     She  took  the  bits  in  her  mouth,  and 

ran  like down  a  tremendous  long  hill.     We 

met ,  and ,  and driving 

;  but  we  got  by  them  all  without  rubbing  a 

hair.     But  just  then, come  jumping  out  of 

,  and  sprung  right  at  the  mare's  head.    Well, 

you  see  that  made  her  shy  one  side,  and  plump  we 

went  right  against ,  that  knocked  us  all  into 

And  such  a  sight  as  there  was,  you  never 

did  see.     The  man  had  in  his   cart ,  and 

,  and ,  and  ......  besides 

The  cart  was  smashed  into  flinters  and  everything 

was  scattered  round  in ;  and  the  horse  with 

the  shafts  was  streaking  it  off  like ,  towards 

Cranktown  depot. 


THE     GAME.  245 

Well,  after  I  found  out  I  was  n't  killed,  I  jumps  up, 
and  says  I,  "Why,  you,  this  is  a  bad  fix,  isn't  it, 

now?  I  declare,  I  ne.ver  saw before,  did 

you  ?  "  says  I.  Says  he,  "  Oh  dear,"  says  he,  "  I  've 

sprained ,  and  broke ,  and  tore  a 

hole  in big  enough  to  drive through," 

says  he.  Says  I,  "That's  easily  mended,"  says  I; 
"  come,  let 's  pick  up  the  pieces,  and  make  the  best  of 
....  ."  But  the  old  fellow  wouldn't  stir  a  peg,  but 

lay  as  still  as ,  and  all  he  said  was,  that  it 

wasn't  of  any  use  to  cry  for ,  or  anything 

else  that  could  n't  be  helped.  So  after  awhile  I  told 
him  I  must  be  on  my  taps,  or  I  should  miss  the  cars, 
and  I  'd  rather  give than  do  that 

So  I  picks  up  my  bundle,  and  takes for  a 

walking  stick,  and  streaks  it  off  for  Cranktown  depot 

as  fast  as could  carry  me.  I  got  there  half 

an  hour  before  the  cars  did,  and  as  I  was  as  hungry 

as ,  thinks  I  I'll  treat  myself;  so  I  went  into 

,  and  bought ,  and ,  and 

washed  'em  down  with Pretty  soon  the  cars 

came  scooting  along,  and  I  got  aboard  and  settled  my- 
self down  on ;  and  the  way  we  rattled  off 

towards  New  York  was  n't  particularly  slow,  I  tell 
you. 

We  flew  like  ...».,  and  I  got  a  squint  at  lots  of 
wonderful  things,  but  could  n't  stop  to  examine  them. 
21* 


246  THE     GAME. 

There  was with perched  right  on  one 

corner  of  it ;  and  a  great  stone  house,  that  had  a  roof 

that  looked  something  like upside  down ;  and 

another  monstrous  big  house,  with  hundreds  of  win- 
dows, that  had standing  all  alone  out-doors. 

And  I  saw  ...'..  cutting  grass  with ;  and 

sawing  wood  with ;  and  a  big  red- 
headed woman  licking right  out  in  the  yard ; 

and  some  youngsters  driving that  was  tackled 

into ;  and  a  dog  with tied  to  his  tail ; 

and  lots  of  other  curious  sights,  too  numerous  to  men- 
tion. 

By-and-by  I  happened  to  look  up,  and  there  was  a 
dandified  little  fellow  in  the  car,  about  as  big  round  as 

,  and  with on  his  lip,  who  had  a 

quizzing  glass  up  to  his  eye,  and  was  staring  right  at 
me,  just  as  though  I  was Thinks  I  to  my- 
self, what 's  sauce  for ,  is  sauce  for 

So  I  out  with  an  old  rusty  key  that  I  found  one  day 

in  the  stomach  of ,  and  putting  the  round 

part  up  to  my  eye,  I  began  to  quiz  the  little  dandy 

through  it.  He  looked  as  cross  as ,  but  I 

did  n't  care,  so  I  puckered  up  my  face  as  solemn  as 
,  and  stared  as  hard  as  I  could. 

Well,  pretty  soon  the  folks  around  begun  to  get 

wind  of  the  fun,  and  looked  as  smiling  as 

One  fat  man,  who  sat  opposite,  holding  -in  one  hand 


THE     GAME.  24? 

,  and  in  the  other ,  snickered  right 

out,  and  quieted  himself  by  taking ;  and  a 

young  woman  who  had in  her  arms,  which 

she  was  trying  to  get  to  sleep,  laughed  so  that  she  had 

to  stuff into  her  mouth.  The  little  dandy  now 

looked  as  savage  as  .......  and  pretty  soon  he  got 

up  and  strutted  off  like into  another  car ;  and 

then  I  put  my  quizzing  glass  away,  laid  back  in  my 
seat,  and  took  a  good  snooze,  with for  a  pil- 
low. 

I  do  n't  remember  how  long  I  slept,  but  I  expect  I 
had  a  pretty  considerable  nap,  for  I  did  n't  wake  up 

for  ever  so  long,  and  I  shouldn't  then,  only 

came  along,  with  ......  on  his  back,  which  he  poked 

in  my  face.  I  jumped  up,  and  was  going  to  give  him 

,  but  he  said  it  was ,  and  he  did  n't 

mean  to,  and  he  asked  my  pardon  as  polite  as 

So  I  told  him  there  was  no  harm  done,  and  we  'd  let 
it  pass  for 

Well,  we  kept  on  travelling  like ,  and 

towards  night  we  got  to  New  York.  I  knew  we 
were  there,  because  the  houses  got  to  be  as  thick  as 

,  and  the  folks  were  thicker  still.  Pretty 

soon  the  cars  stopped,  and  all  hands  rushed  out  helter 

skelter,  like after  the  enemy ;  and  such  a 

scrabbling,  and  yelling,  and  grabbing  and  punching  as 
there  was,  I  guess  you  never  did  see.  One  great  two- 


248  THE     GAME. 

fisted  fellow,  with on  his  back,  ran  into  me 

like ,  and  almost  knocked  me  into  .  .  .  .  ^ 

An  old  woman  who  wore ,  and  who  had  for 

baggage  .....  and ,  besides in  her 

hand,  threatened  to  call  the  police,  because  I  offered 
to  help  carry  her  traps.     A  little  dirty -faced  boy,  with 

in     the    leg     of    his     trousers,    had 

that  he  wanted  to  sell,  but  I  told  him  I  could  n't  trade. 
Then  he  wanted  to  know  how  I  'd  swap,  and  said  he  'd 

trade  for ,  or ,  or I  thought 

he  was  poking  fun  at  me,  and  so  I  walked  off;  but  as 
I  turned  to  go,  I  thought  I  heard  him  say  something 

about  

Just  then  some  music  struck  up  in  a  corner  of  the 
depot,  that  sounded  for  all  the  world  like  .....  giv- 
in"r  a  concert,  and  I  went  to  see  what  it  was.  There 

O  " 

was  a  man  whose  face  was  all  covered  with  hair,  sing- 
ing, and  playing  on There  was  a  boy,  too, 

who   was   playing   on   something   that    sounded    like 

They   gave   us ,    and   then   they 

struck  up ,  and  then  the  boy  passed  round 

his  cap  for  a  contribution.     One  man  put  in ; 

another  dropped  in ;  and  a  rogue  of  a  boy 

threw  in  something  that  looked  like 

Well,  about  that  time  I  looked  up,  and  eaught  the 

eye  of  a  well-dressed  gentleman  with ,  who 

was  standing  close  by.     His  head  was  as  smooth  and 


THE     GAME.  249 

slick  as ,  and  he  looked  as  nice  as  though  he 

were  just  out  of He  was  in  mourning,  for 

he  had on  his  hat,  and  appeared .  dreadful 

solemn.     Says  he,  "  My  friend,"  says  he,  taking  me 

aside,  "  I  suppose  you  wish  to  find of  the 

right  sort.  I  suppose  you  've  heard,"  says  he,  "  about 
the  rascally  tricks  that  are  played  off  here  upon 
strangers;  but  you've  no  idea  how  many  sharpers 

always  stand  ready  to  fleece Why,"  says  he, 

"  there  are  three;  or  four  of  the  rascals  watching  you, 
in  that  crowd,  like  so  many  cats  lying  in  wait  for 

,  and  that 's  the  reason  I  took  you  aside.     If 

you  want  a  good  cosy  home,"  says  he,  "  where  you 
will  be  out  of  the  reach  of  these  sharks,  and  where 
you  can  have  anything  you  call  for,  from  ......  to 

or ,  just  come  along  with,  me  to  my 

boarding-house.      You  see,"  says  he,  "  I  aint  exactly 

,  but  I  go  about  trying  to  do  what  little  good 

I  can  in  my  own  humble  way,"  says  he ;  and  then  he 
spouted  off  some  poetry,  but  I  can't  remember  but  one 
verse.  It  was  something  like  this : 

"  A  little  word  in  kindness  spoken, 

A  motion,  or , 

Has  often  healed  the  heart  that 's  broken, 
And  made " 

Says  I,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  a  word  in  edgewise, 


250  THE    GAME. 

"  You  're  just  the  man  I  want  to  see,"  says  I ;  "  but  1 
hope  they  do  n't  charge  too  much  down  to  your  board- 
ing-house, for  you  see  I  have  n't  got  but  just 

in  my  pocket,  and  I  sha'n't  have  anything  more  till  I 
earn  it,"  says  I.  Says  he,  "  Oh  do  n't  say  anything 
more  about  that,"  says  he ;  "  such  sordid  thoughts  are 

enough  to  curdle Come  along,  and  you  '11  be 

provided  for  till  you  can  do  better,"  says  he. 

So  we  walked  along  together,  and  he  talked  like  a 
book  about He  spoke  about crush- 
ing his  heart,  and  said  the  world  had  lost  all  its 

charms  to  him,  and had  extinguished  the  light 

of  his  life.  He  didn't  say  exactly  what  the  matter 
was,  but  I  thought  he  'd  lost  some  of  his  relations,  or 
I  asked  him  where  he  preached,  for  I  con- 
cluded he  must  be  a  minister ;  but  he  said  he  enjoyed 
such  poor  health,  that  he  had  to  give  up  his  parish. 
He  said  he  was  troubled  with ,  and  his  stom- 
ach was  so  weak  that  he  often  had  to  dine  on 

and He  said  he  was  also  afflicted  with 

"in  his  head,  and  had  great  trouble  from 

.  .  .  :  .  that  had  settled  on  his  lungs. 

Well,  we  chatted  together  just  like ,  until 

we  came  to  his  boarding-house.  It  was  a  pretty  styl- 
ish place,  I  tell  you,  and  I  began  to  think  a  fellow 

ought  to  have ,  to  afford  to  live  there.  He 

took  me  into  a  nice  little  room,  all  cool  and  shady. 


THE     GAME.  251 

There  was  a  picture  of on  the  wall,  and  an 

image  of .  .  .  .  »  sitting  on  the  mantel-piece,  just  as 

natural  as  life.     I  sat  down  on ,  and  the  man 

went  to  the  closet,  and  I  heard  him  pouring  something 

from  a  bottle.     Pretty  soon  he  brought  out  on 

two  glasses  of  something  that  looked  real  good.  Says 
he,  "  A  man  ought  to  wet  his  mouth,"  says  he,  "  after 
riding  all  day  on ,  especially  when  the  weath- 
er's  as  hot  as  'tis  to-day.  But  as  a  friend  to  you," 
says  he,,  "  I  can't  advise  you  to  drink  much  of  our 
water,  at  first  —  you  know  it  might  not  agree  with 

you  —  it  sometimes  acts  as in  the  stomach  of 

It 's  splendid  water,"  says  he ;  "  we  Yorkers 

would  u't  take for  it,  and  I  prefer  it  to  any- 
thing the  art  of  man  ever  concocted ;  but  then  you  've 
got  to  get  used  to  it  gradually,  you  know.  Now," 
says  he,  "just  taste  of  this  —  it's  some  of  our  temper- 
ance cordial,  made  out  of  the  pure  nectar  of 

We  're  all  temperance  folks  here,"  says  he,  —  "  never 

have  anything  in  the  house  stronger  than " 

So  he  took  one  glass,  and  drank  it  down,  and  I 
emptied  the  other  pretty  quick,  I  tell  you,  for  I  was 

as  dry  as Then  he  went  down   stairs,  to 

order  supper,  and  I  took  up  a  book  that  was  full  of 
splendid  pictures,  and  began  to  look  at  them.  There 

was  a  view  of fighting  with ,  and  a 

picture  of holding ,  and  a  likeness  of 


252  THE    GAME. 

,  and  a  portrait  of ,  and  a  picture  of 

,  and  another  of perched  on  the  top 

of ,  whistling  Hail  Columbia  to  all  the  world. 

But  pretty  soon  I  begun  to  feel  sort  of  queer. 

First  I  felt creeping  over  my  head,  like 

Then  it  seemed  as  though  there  were 

squirming  about  in  my  brain.  Then  I  began 

to  feel  queer  down  in  my  stomach.  I  thought  I'd 

swallowed ,  and ,  which  rattled  so 

every  time  I  stirred,  that  I  could  n't  go  to  sleep.  My 
legs,  too,  did  n't  seem  right  —  I  thought  I  'd  been 

changed  into I  did  get  to  sleep,  though, 

after  awhile,  and  then  such  a  dream  as  I  had !  I 
dreampt  that  the  table  was  spread  for  supper,  and 
covered  with  everything  you  could  think  of.  There 

was ,  smoking  hot ;  and ,  big  enough 

for  a  whole  board  of  aldermen ;  and ,  with  all 

the  fixin's ;  and ,  that  made  my  mouth  water ; 

and ,  raw ;  and  .......  of  the  tallest  kind ; 

and ,  such  as  we  used  to  have  at  grand- 
ma'am's  ;  and ,  fried  brown  and  crispy.  But 

I  can't  remember  now  half  the  good  things  there  were 
on  the  table. 

Well,  as  true  as  I  'm  a  live  man,  I  did  n't  wake  up 

again  till  the  clock  struck the  next  morning. 

I  was  sort  of  confused,  you  know,  for  I  could  n't  find 
my  hat  and  coat,  nor  my  bundle  of  clean  clothes,  and 


THE    GAME.  253 

instead  of  my  new  boots,  I  had  on  the  remnants  of 
.."...,  all  split  out  at  the  sides.  Pretty  soton  a 

fellow,  who   was   dressed   something  like , 

stuck  his  head  in  the  door.  "  Hullo,  friend,"  says  I, 
"can  you  tell  me  where  the  minister  is?"  "The 

what  ?  "  says  he,  looking  as  puzzled  as  though 

had  got  half  way  into  his  head,  and  then  stuck  fast. 
Says  I,  "The  minister  —  that  city  missionary  that 
boards  here,  and  has  got .  .• .  .  .  ;  I  come  along  from 
the  cars  with  him  last  night,"  says  I.  That  made  the 

fellow  laugh  right  out,  and  his  eyes  shined  like 

in  a  dark  night.     But  pretty  soon  he  cooled  off  a  little, 

and  put into  his  mouth ;  and  then  he  sat  down 

on ,  and  said  he  was ,  and  asked  me 

to  tell  him  all  about  my  adventures  in  New  York. 
So  I  told  him  the  whole  story,  but  I  tell  you  I  trem- 
bled all  over,  and  my  muscles  felt  as  flabby  as , 

for  you  know  I  began  to  think  I  'd  got  into , 

of  some  sort  or  other;  and began  to  come 

over  me,  I  tell  you. 

Well,  the  man  sat  just  as  cool  as ,  and 

heard  "it  all,  and  then  says  he,  looking  me  right  in  .the 
eye,  says  he,  "  Coddle,  you  're  green  —  dreadful  green. 

You  've  fallen  among  thieves,  like ,  and  got 

thoroughly  cleaned  out,"  says  he.     I  began  to  shake 

like Says  he,  "  Your  '  city  missionary '  was 

one  of  those  very  sharpers  that  he  cautioned  you 

22 


254  THE    GAME. 

against  —  the   smooth-tongued  villain!     He   decoyed 

you*  into  his  den,  and  got  you  as  drunk  as ," 

says  he ;  but  that  was  n't  true,  I  'd  have  you  to  know, 
for  I  did  n't  drink  a  drop  of  anything  but  the  temper- 
ance cordial.  "  Well,"  says  the  man,  "  after  you  was 
drunk  enough,  he  robbed  you  of  your  money  and 

clothes,  and  then  chucked  you  into ,  for  the 

police  to  take  care  of;  and  here  you  are  in  the  police 
station,  arrested  for  drunkenness,"  says  he. 

When  I  heard  that,  I  declare  it  was  just  as  if 

had  hit  me  right  over  the  head.     "  0,  dear 

me,"  says  I,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  and  I  burst  right  out 

into ,  for  you  know  the  poison  stuff  made  me 

as  weak  as ;  and  besides,  I  had in 

my  head,  that  almost  drove  me  crazy.  Well,  the 
policeman  said  in  the  first  place  I  must  have  some- 
thing to  eat ;  so  he  went  out  and  got  me and 

Then,  as  my  coat  and  hat  were  gone,  he 

hunted  up  for  me and ,  to  take  their 

place.     My  trousers  were  badly  torn,  too,  and  he  got 

me to  mend  'em.     So,  after  I  'd  got  fixed  up 

a  little,  I  went  out  with  him  to  see  if  I  could  find  the 

house  where  I  stopped.     But  I  had ,  and  was 

weak  in  the  joints,  and  could  n't  walk  very  well.     So, 

after  trotting  round  half  an  hour,  with beating 

on  our  heads,  he  said  I  'd  better  go  to  the  depot,  and 
take  the  first  train  for  home.  I  told  him  I  hadn't 


THE     GAME.  255 

got  anything  in  my  pocket  but and , 

to  pay  the  fare.  He  said  he  'd  fix  that.  So  he  went 
with  me  to  the  depot,  and  got  a  free  ticket,  which  he 

gave  me,  with ;  and  the  way  I  left  that  city 

was  n't  slow,  I  tell  you.  And  as  soon  as  ever  I  came 
in  sight  of  father's  piggery  and  cow-sheds,  and  saw 
bobbing  round  among  the  cows,  and  Asa  com- 
ing down  the  road  with for  the  pigs,  and 

heard  Touser  barking up  a  tree,  and  thought 

of  the  hour  when  ma'am  gave  me ,1  declare 

I  burst  right  out  into  "  Home,  sweet  home,"  my  heart 
was  so  full. 

And  now  I  tell  you,  boys,  I  'm  going  to  settle  down 

on ,  and  raise ,  and  try  and  cultivate 

,  and  establish  for  myself ,  and  see 

if  I  can't  be ,  as  well  as  other  folks.     But  if 

anybody  here  wants  to  know  what is,  or  is 

anxious  to  see with  his  own  eyes,  and  to  pay 

well  for  the  sight,  too,  out  of  his  own  pocket,  I  'd  just 
advise  him  to  go  to  New  York  as  soon  as  possible. 
And  I  guess  my  advice  is  worth  something,  if  you  do 
get  it  for  nothing  ;  for  you  see  I  Ve  lost  all  my  money 
and  new  clothes,  and  got  nothing  in  exchange  but 
....  [read  all  the  cards  that  remain.'] 


256 


THE    GAME. 


PHRASES  TO  SUPPLY  THE  BLANKS. 


A  broken  jackknife. 

A  flock  of  crows. 

A  carpenter's  chest. 

A  pinch  of  snuff. 

A  humbug. 

A  new  idea. 

This,  that,  and  the  other. 

A  bureau  drawer. 

A  dancing-master. 

A  cake  saloon. 

A  gander. 

A  good  character. 

Something  green. 

An  old  bandanna. 

A  streak  of  lightning. 

A  quarter  of  beef. 

A  charcoal-wagon. 

A  bad  cold. 

A  vast  oyster  stew. 

A  bird. 

Somebody. 

A  mowing  machine. 

A  dishcloth. 

A  pair  of  old  pantaloons. 

A  yellow  clog. 

A  bucket  of  soft  soap. 

A  contented  mind. 

A  house  a-fire. 

Daddy  Longlegs. 

A  thousand  flowers. 

A  three-legged  stool. 

A  few  old  clothes. 


Two  lame  legs. 

A  white  cat. 

An  immense  pan-dowdy. 

A  grand  palaver. 

A  great  toe. 

A  great  fool. 

A  load  of  hay. 

The  elephant. 

A  crust  of  bread. 

A  sick  calf. 

A  tin  kitchen. 

A  red  moustache. 

A  fiddler. 

A  stiff  knee. 

A  cornfield. 

Two-and-three-pence. 

A  one-eyed  man. 

A  cocked  hat. 

A  liberty  pole. 

Some  valuable  experience. 

A  stack  of  fat  lobsters. 

A  great  sorrow. 

A  cup  of  coffee. 

A  quiet  conscience. 

A  gridiron  railroad. 

An  Irishman. 

A  drove  of  cattle. 

Such  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish. 

A  pair  of  cotton  socks. 

A  dark  shadow. 

A  quart  of  caterpillars. 

A  great  hole. 


THE     GAME. 


257 


An  old  brass  key. 

Yankee  Doodle. 

A  dreadful  pain. 

A  pair  of  green  spectacles. 

A  cucumber. 

A  string  of  onions. 

A  clap  of  thunder. 

Half  a  pair  of  scissors, 

A  soldier. 

Half  a  peck  of  dried  beans. 

A  telegraph  despatch. 

A  velvet  sofa. 

A  yoke  of  steers. 

A  bad  scrape. 

A  basket  of  chips. 

Half  a  dozen  doughnuts. 

An  old  owl. 

A  flood  of  tears. 

Balaam's  ass. 

An  old  coat. 

A  tub  of  butter. 

A  small  boy. 

A  bad  matter. 

The  milk  of  human  kindness. 

A  heap  of  pancakes. 

A  boarding-house. 

A  little  fiddle. 

A  Frenchman. 

A  peeled  onion. 

Half  a  dozen  bundles 

A  stick  of  candy. 

A  young  earthquake. 

A  mint  of  gold. 

A  salt  fish. 

22* 


A  mouse. 

Just  nothing  at  all. 

A  couple  of  lightning  bugs. 

A  piece  of  putty. 

A  dose  of  salts. 

A  lightning  express. 

A  handful  of  peanuts. 

A  Dutch  farmer. 

A  set  of  false  teeth. 

A  roast  ox. 

A  liver  complaint. 

A  long-legged  fellow. 

Something  else. 

A  big  meeting  house. 

A  heavy  weed. 

A  pumpkin-vine  trumpet. 

A  tear. 

The  middle  of  next  week. 

A  small  waiter. 

A  blackbird  fricasee. 

A  brass  button. 

A  unicorn. 

A  pair  of  tongs. 

A  pair  of  old  brogans. 

Nine  rats  in  a  stocking. 

A  swarm  of  bees. 

A  litter  of  pups. 

A  patent  boot-jack. 

A  one-horse  saw-mill. 

Potatoes  and  cabbages. 

A  dilapidated  straw  hat. 

A  big  chimney. 

A  stuffed  pig. 

The  American  eagle. 


258 


THE     GAME. 


A  rusty  horse-shoe. 

A  pocket  full  of  rocks. 

An  Indian  squaw. 

A  smoked  herring. 

Sally's  baby. 

A  blue  cotton  umbrella. 

A  sheet  of  fancy  gingerbread. 

A  hickory  sapling. 

A  spare  seat. 

A  thousand  of  bricks. 

A  sloop  load  of  clams. 

A  big  iron  pot. 

Something  or  other. 

A  goose. 

A  bob-tailed  donkey. 

A  sheet  of  last  year's  buns. 

A  friend  sincere. 

A  three-cent  piece. 

Fourteen  bandboxes. 

A  city  missionary. 

A  starving  bear. 

A  hot  sun. 

A  bunch  of  posies. 

A  gentleman  from  the  country. 

Two  buckets  of  swill. 

An  old  handcart. 

A  great  curiosity. 

Some  serious  reflections. 

A  snapping  turtle. 

A  policeman. 

A  pocket  handkerchief. 

A  pound  of  wooden  nutmegs. 

Twenty-three  dollars 

A  sweet  potato. 


A  new  comer. 

A  cup  of  green  tea. 

A  crying  baby. 

A  sea  of  turtle  soup. 

A  tow-headed  boy. 

An  unfortunate  accident. 

Old  dog  Tray. 

A  dozen  bull-frogs. 

A  mammoth  cooking-stove. 

Polly's  old  bonnet. 

A  bramble  bush. 

Some  good  advice. 

A  fishing  pole. 

Widow  Buck's  cow. 

A  glass  of  ginger  beer. 

General  confusion. 

A  punch. 

A  needle  and  thread. 

A  blind  alley. 

A  chipmuck.  . 

The  old  homestead. 

A  bad  liver. 

An  ivory-headed  cane. 

A  parting  blessing. 

A  handful  of  crackers. 

Three  heavy  trunks. 

A  tall  steeple. 

A  strange  sensation. 

A  cock  turkey. 

Twelve  dozen  eggs. 

A  hippopotamus. 

An  old  newspaper. 

An  old  linen  sack. 

A  sore  head. 


THE     GAME. 


259 


A  chaw  of  tobacco. 

A  procession  of  cockroaches. 

A  Patagonian  chief. 

Two  old  cronies. 

An  Egyptian  mummy. 

A  big  stone. 

An  old  setting  hen. 

Something  strange. 


St.  George  and  the  dragon. 

A  butcher's  wagon. 

These  new  trousers. 

A  little  spilt  milk. 

Two  shirts  and  a  dickey. 

A  meat-axe. 

Two  leather  shoe-strings. 

A  stiff  leg. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JUST     OUT     OF    JAIL. 

Til  OUR  months  in  the  county  jail,  was  the  sentence 
passed  upon  Sam  Hapley,  Jessie's  oldest  brother, 
for  a  robbery  which  he  committed  in  a  neighboring 
town.  Sam  entered  upon  his  imprisonment  during 
the  last  week  of  the  year,  and  his  sentence  had  now 
expired.  Those  were  four  very  long  and  weary 
months  to  the  boy-prisoner,  but  he  could  scarcely 
realize  the  change  they  had  brought  about  in  his  once 
happy  home.  Since  the  key  first  turned  upon  him  in 
his  little  cell,  his  youngest  brother,  the  flower  and  pet 
of  the  household,  had  been  carried  to  his  long  home, 
and  was  soon  followed  by  his  father,  who  met  with  an 
awful  fate  one  winter's  night,  while  he  was  stupefied 
with  liquor.  The  rest  of  the  family  had  been  scat- 
tered, strangers  gathered  around  the  fireside  where 


THE    NOTE.  261 

they  used  to  meet,  and  not  one  of  them  could  now 
claim  a  home. 

A  few  days  before  •  Sam's  release  from  jail,  Jessie 
wrote  to  him  an  affectionate  letter,  inviting  him,  in 
behalf  of  Mrs.  Page  and  Marcus,  to  come  and  see 
them,  before  going  elsewhere,  and  promising  him  a 
kind  reception.  His  mother  had  also  written  to  him, 
informing  him  that  she  had  the  promise  of  a  good 
situation  for  him  on  a  farm,  in  the  town  where  she 
was  living,  and  urging  him  to  come  to  her  at  once,  on 
his  discharge  from  jail.  Sam  did  not  reply  to  either 
of  these  letters ;  but  the  day  after  the  expiration  of 
his  sentence,  just  as  the  academy  bell  was  ringing  for 
the  afternoon  session,  a  little  boy  put  into  the  hands 
of  Jessie  a  note,  which  he  said  a  strange  young  man, 
whom  he  met  in  the  woods,  had  asked  him  to  deliver. 
It  was  faintly  written  with  a  lead  pencil,  and  was  dirty 
and  crumpled ;  but  she  soon  ascertained  that  it  was 
from  Sam,  and  that  it  contained  a  request  for  her  to 
meet  him,  that  afternoon,  at  a  certain  retired  spot  on 
the  banks  of  Round  Hill  Pond.  It  also  apprised  her 
that  she  must  come  alone,  if  she  wished  to  see  him. 

Jessie   at   once   got   excused    from   her  afternoon 


262 


THE     MEETING. 


duties,  and  proceeded  to  the  spot  indicated  in  the  note. 
She  seated  herself  on  a  certain  large,  flattish  stone, 
near  the  pond,  as  directed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  her 
brother  emerged  from  a  thicket  close  by.  She  em- 
braced him  with  the  warm  affection  of  a  sister,  but  his 
greeting  was  rather  cool,  and  he  kept  glancing  about 
with  suspicious  eye,  as  if  expecting  to  see  some  un- 


welcome face  peering  out  from  behind  a  tree  or  rock. 
Sam  had  changed  but  h'ttle  in  appearance,  since  Jessie 
last  saw  him.  He  was  a  trifle  taller,  and  seemed  less 
bold  and  frank  than  formerly ;  and  the  coarse,  sensual 


THE    INTERVIEW.  263 

and  vulgar  expression  which  his  countenance  had  for 
several  years  been  assuming,  was  more  painfully  ap- 
parent than  ever.  He  looked  well  and  hearty,  how- 
ever, and  was  evidently  the  same  Sam  Hapley  that  he 
had  always  been. 

Jessie  made  it  her  first  business  to  endeavor  to  per- 
suade her  brother  to  go  with  her  to  Mrs.  Page's.  But 
though  she  used  all  her  powers  of  persuasion,  he  reso- 
lutely refused,  from  first  to  last,  to  show  himself  in 
town.  He  said  he  slept  the  night  previous  in  an  old, 
unoccupied  barn,  near  the  pond,  and  had  a  little  food, 
which  he  had  bought  with  money  given  to  him  by  the 
sheriff.  He  had  seen  no  one  who  knew  him  since  he 
came  to  Highburg,  and  he  intended  to  leave  the  town 
that  afternoon,  or  early  the  next  morning,  "  to  seek  his 
fortune,"  as  he  expressed  it.  But  Jessie  could  gain  no 
information  as  to  what  his  purposes  really  were.  The 
most  he  divulged  was,  that  he  should  not  accept  of  his 
mother's  proposition,  nor  even  go  to  see  her ;  and  he 
wound  up  by  saying,  that  he  should  not  have  come  to 
see  Jessie,  only  he  thought  she  might  be  able  to  let 
him  have  a  few  dollars. 

Notwithstanding  this  cutting  remark,  and  the  unfeel- 


264  JESSIE'S   APPEAL. 

ing  manner  in  which  it  was  uttered,  Jessie  would 
probably  have  offered  her  brother  assistance,  had  it 
been  in  her  power  to  do  so.  But  she  had  not  a  dollar 
in  the  world,  and  she  told  him  so.  He  then  proposed 
that  she  should  borrow  a  small  sum  from  Mrs.  Page  ; 
but  Jessie  firmly  declined  to  do  this,  saying  that  noth- 
ing would  'tempt  her  to  borrow,  so  long  as  she  had  no 
means  for  repaying  the  debt.  When  Sam  found  that 
there  was  no  prospect  of  his  accomplishing  his  selfish 
purpose,  he  seemed  in  haste  to  close  the  interview, 
that  he  might  at  once  resume  his  travels.  But  Jessie 
still  clung  to  him,  with  tears,  beseeching  him  to  recon- 
sider his  resolution. 

"  There  is  poor  Henry,"  she  said ;  "  what  will  hev 
think,  when  he  finds  that  you  have  been  here,  ancf 
gone  off,  without  seeing  him  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  replied  Sam.  "  I  should  like  to 
see  him  well  enough,  but  I  've  determined  I  wont 
show  myself  in  Highburg  again,  and  I  wont  —  so 

that 's  an  end  of  it." 

9 
"  And  the  graves  of  father  "and  Benny  —  can  you 

go  away  without  making  them  one  visit  ? "  inquired 
Jessie,  her  tears  bursting  forth  afresh. 


HENRY.  265 

"  I  can't  do  them  any  good,"  he  replied,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause.  "  Come,  it 's  of  no  use  to  tease  so,  for 
I  've  made  up  my  mind  to  go  off  this  afternoon,  and  I 
shall  go,  whether  or  no." 

But  Jessie  did  continue  to  "  tease,"  and  her  impor- 
tunities were  at  length  rewarded  by  a  promise  that  he 
would  remain  there  another  night,  and  that  he  would 
meet  Jessie  and  Henry  at  an  early  hour  the  next 
morning,  in  the  burial-ground,  which  was  in  a  secluded 
spot. 

On  her  way  home,  Jessie  called  at  Mr.  Allen's,  to 
get  permission  for  her  brother  to  accompany  her  in 
the  morning.  Henry  was  at  home,  for  he  did  not  now 
go  to  school,  Mr.  Allen  having  need  of  his  services  on 
the  farm.  Jessie  did  not  think  it  best  to  say  anything 
about  Sam,  but  merely  requested  that  Henry  might 
be  allowed  to  make  an  early  visit  to  the  graveyard, 
with  her,  the  next  morning.  She  had  been  thinking, 
ever  since  the  snow  began  to  disappear,  or  planting 
some  young  trees  or  shrubs  over  the  spot  where  her 
father  and  brother  were  laid ;  and  as  the  time  to 
transplant  trees  had  now  arrived,  she  determined  to 
perform  this  act  of  filial  and  sisterly  affection,  in 
23 


266  AN     EARLY    WALK. 

connection  with  her  interview  with  Sam.  Mrs.  Allen 
readily  consented  to  Jessie's  request,  and  added  that 
her  husband  would  probably  furnish  them  with  some 
young  trees  suitable  for  their  purpose. 

Jessie  reached  home  a  little  before  the  rest  of  the 
young  folks  returned  from  school.  Some  curiosity 
was  manifested  about  her  sudden  disappearance,  but 
she  let  no  one  into  her  confidence  except  Mrs.  Page, 
to  whom  she  related  the  adventures  of  the  afternoon. 
Early  the  next  morning,  Jessie  departed  as  quietly  as 
possible,  to  keep  her  appointment.  She  took  with  her 
a  small  package,  which  Mrs.  Page,  in  the  kindness  of 
her  heart,  had  hastily  made  up  for  the  erring  boy. 
It  contained  several  articles  of  underclothing,  which 
Marcus  had  outgrown,  and  some  cold  meat,  bread,  and 
other  substantial  provisions  for  the  body. 

On  arriving  at  Mr.  Allen's,  Jessie  found  her  brother 
ready  for  her.  Mr.  Allen  had  given  him  two  tall  and 
straight  beeches,  and  Mrs.  A.  had  allowed  him  to  take 
up  a  rose-bush  and  an  althea  from  the  front  yard. 
"With  these  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  shovel,  hoe  and 
rake  in  his  hand,  he  had  about  as  much  as  he  could 
carry. 


ABOUT    MBS.    ALLEN.  267 

"  Mr.  Allen  and  his  wife  are  very  kind,  to  give  us 
these/'  said  Jessie,  after  they  had  left  the  yard. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Henry ;  "  and  I  did  n't  ask  them, 
either  —  they  did  it  of  their  own  accord." 

"You  seem  to  like  your  new  home  rather  better 
than  you  did  at  first,"  continued  Jessie. 

"  I  like  Mrs.  Allen  a  good  deal  better  than  I  used 
to  —  she  is  n't  cross  to  me,  now,"  replied  Henry. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  because  you  try  harder  to  please 
her  than  you  used  to,  is  n't  it  ?  "  inquired  Jessie. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  ifr's  partly  that,"  said  Henry ;  "  but 
I  'm  sure  I  have  n't  changed  any  more  than  she  has. 
She  used  to  scold  me,  whether  I  did  right  or  wrong. 
Now  she  hardly  ever  scolds,  even  when  I  deserve  it." 

"  Still,  I  think  you  deserve  most  of  the  credit  for 
the  change,"  said  Jessie.  "  If  Mrs.  Allen  was  ever 
cross  or  unkind  to  you,  I'm  satisfied  it  was  because 
she  thought  you  did  not  try  to  please  her.  I  knew  it 
was  out  of  pure  kindness  to  you  that  she  consented  to 
take  you,  in  the  first  place ;  and  I  think  she  would 
always  have  treated  you  as  kindly  as  she  does  now, 

if but  we  wont  rake  over  past  errors.  I'm  very 

glad  they're  dead  and  buried,  and  I  hope  they'll 


268  A    SURPRISE.     * 

never  rise  again.  And  now,  whom  do  you  suppose 
we  're  going  to  see  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  know  we  were  going  to  see  anybody," 
replied  Henry. 

"What  should  you  say,  if  you  should  meet  Sam- 
uel ?  "  inquired  Jessie. 

"  What,  our  Sam !  is  he  here  ?  "  exclaimed  Henry, 
stopping  short,  and  resting  his  burden  upon  the 
ground. 

Jessie  then  related  to  him  the  occurrences  of  the 
previous  afternoon,  as  they  walked  on  towards  the 
burial-ground.  Henry  seemed  much  pleased  with  the 
idea  of  seeing  his  brother,  and  hurried  along  so  fast, 
with  his  burden,  that  Jessie  could  hardly  keep  up  with 
him. 

On  reaching  the  graveyard,  as  they  saw  nothing  of 
Sam,  they  proceeded  to  the  lot  where  their  father  and 
brother  were  laid,  and  prepared  to  set  out  the  trees 
and  shrubs.  There  was  no  stone  to  mark  the  spot, 
but  Jessie  remembered  too  well  the  two  little  gravelly 
mounds,  to  need  anything  to  guide  her  to  the  locality. 
Henry  threw  off  his  jacket,  and  went  to  work  in  good 
earnest  with  his  shovel,  pausing,  every  few  minutes,  to 


A    PIOUS    WORK.  269 

look  around  in  quest  of  Sam.  Jessie,  meanwhile,  was 
busy  with  the  hoe  and  rake,  cleaning  out  and  levelling 
the  lot.  The  holes  for  the  trees  required  to  be  large, 
and  as  the  digging  was  rather  hard,  Henry  found  he 
had  undertaken  no  trifling  task.  But  he  kept  steadily 
at  work,  hoping,  however,  that  the  stronger  arm  of  his 
brother  would  soon  come,  to  "  spell "  him. 

The  two  beeches  were  at  length  planted,  each  near 
the  head  of  a  grave;  but  Sam  had  not  appeared, 
though  it  was  half  an  hour  later  than  the  time  he 
had  appointed  for  the  interview.  Jessie  and  Henry, 
though  disappointed  and  dejected>  still  hoped  their 
brother  would  appear,  thinking  that  his  failure  to  keep 
the  appointment  might  be  owing  to  his  having  no 
means  of  telling  the  exact  time  of  day,  where  he  was. 
They  kept  on  with  their  labor,  and  the  shrubs  were 
soon  in  their  places  at  the  foot  of  the  graves,  and  the 
whole  lot  was  put  in  as  good  order  as  the  time  would 
allow. 

But  they  looked  and  waited  in  vain  for  Sam.  He 
did  not  appear.  After  lingering  around  the  burial- 
ground  until  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  academy  bell 
to  ring,  they  departed,  sadly  disappointed,  and  wonder- 
23* 


270  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

ing  whether  Sam  had  taken  alarm,  and  left  town 
sooner  than  he  intended,  or  whether  he  had  agreed  to 
the  appointment  merely  to  get  rid  of  the  importunities 
of  his  sister,  and  without  any  idea  of  keeping  his 
promise.  Jessie  and  Henry  felt,  however,  that  they 
had  done  a  good  work,  though  they  had  not  accom- 
plished the  thing  for  which  mainly  they  set  out  on 
their  early  morning  errand. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SHOW    AND    SUBSTANCE 


)"  Said  Bo11*1^  <>ne  evening,  as  the 
family  were  sitting  together  in  the  twilight,  "  I 
wish  we  had  a  sugar-orchard.  Only  think  —  Charlie 
Doane  and  his  little  brother  Tom  have  made  three 
hundred  and  ten  pounds  of  sugar,  this  year,  without 
anybody's  help,  and  they're  going  to  have  all  the 
money  for  it.  All  their  father  did  was  to  cut  a  part 
of  the  wood.  Charlie  is  n't  fourteen  years  old,  yet, 
and  he  's  got  lots  of  money  laid  up.  Why,  he  says 
they  '11  get  all  of  twenty-five  dollars  for  their  maple 
sugar,  this  year." 

"What  does  he  intend  to  do  with  his  money?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Page. 

"  Oh,  he  saves  it  up,"  replied  Ronald  ;  "  he  does  n't 
spend  a  cent  of  it  ;  and  when  he  gets  a  lot  together,  he 


272  YOUNG    MISEBS. 

puts  it  in  the  bank.  He 's  earning  money  all  the  time 
—  I  never  see  such  a  fellow.  Why,  he 's  round  by 
day -break,  every  morning,  now,  after  greens  —  he  sells 
them  over  to  the  village,  and  picks  up  lots  of  change, 
that  way.  There,  I  never  thought  of  it  before  —  I 
mean  to  pick  some  greens,  and  see  if  I  can't  sell  them, 
and  get  some  money  to  pay  my  note.  Will  you  buy 
them,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  '11  buy  as  many  as  we  can  use,"  replied  Mrs. 
Page ;  "  but  if  you  are  as  industrious  as  Charlie  is, 
I  can't  promise  to  take  all  you  bring." 

"  Oh,  I  never  shall  be  as  industrious  as  he  is,"  said 
Ronald  ;  ".or  at  any  rate,  I  never  shall  pick  up  money 
as  fast  as  he  does." 

"  I  should  n't  like  to  have  you  do  just  as  Charlie 
Doane  is  doing,  if  you  could,"  added  Mrs.  Page.  "  I 
like  to  see  children  industrious,  and  it  is  well  enough 
for  them  to  earn  a  little  money  for  themselves,  occa- 
sionally; but  when  I  see  them  very  eager  to  get 
money  to  hoard  up,  and  never  spending  a  cent,  if  they 
can  help  it,  I  'm  afraid  they  are  training  themselves 
to  be  selfish,  close-fisted  worshippers  of  money.  I 
ehould  tremble  for  Charlie,  if  he  were  my  boy." 


MB.    DOANE.  273 

"  His  father  praises  him  up  to  a  great  rate,  for  earn- 
ing so  much  money,  and  saving  it  up  so  close,"  said 
Otis.  "  I  was  in  Mr.  Todd's  store,  the  other  day, 
when  he  was  telling  about  it.  He  said  Charlie  would 
be  a  rich  man,  yet." 

"I'm  afraid  Mr.  Doane,  himself,  thinks  too  much 
of  his  money,"  continued  Mrs.  Page. 

"  Mr.  Doane  ?  "  said  Marcus,  apparently  awakening 
from  a  reverie  ;  "  he  's  a  complete  miser.  When  old 
Mrs.  Lane  lost  her  cow,  and  the  people  were  making 
up  a  subscription  to  buy  her  another,  everybody 
thought  that  as  Mr.  Doane  sold  the  cow  to  her  only  a 
little  while  before,  and  made  a  good  profit  on  it,  he 
would  put  his  name  down  for  five  dollars,  at  least ;  but 
he  refused  to  give  a  single  cent  towards  it.  And  yet 
he 's  worth  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  at  the  least  calcu- 
lation. He  's  an  old  miser,  and  it 's  my  opinion  Char- 
lie will  be  another,  if  he  li ves." 

"You're  rather  free  in  your  remarks,"  said  Mrs. 
Page,  smiling.  "  Do  you  remember  the  article  in  the 
'  Wreath,'  a  month  or  two  ago,  about  speaking  evil  of 
our  neighbors  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  remember  it,"  replied  Marcus,  "  and 


274  A    NEW     CAP. 

I  believe  I've  only  carried  out  its  doctrine.  If  I 
recollect  right,  it  took  the  ground  that  we  ought  not  to 
speak  of  the  faults  of  another,  except  for  a  good 
object.  Now  I  had  a  good  object  in  saying  what  I 
did  about  Mr.  Doane.  Charlie's  miserly  example 
had  evidently  made  quite  an  impression  on  Ronald, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  hold  up  Mr.  Doane's  character 
in  its  true  light,  to  counteract  that  impression.  That's 
all  I  did." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Ronald,  "  you  buy  my  greens, 
and  I  wont  hoard  up  my  money.  I  '11  pay  my  note, 
first,  and  then  I'll  buy  one  of  those  new-fashioned 
caps  that  Ed  Baldwin  has  got.  I  wish  I  could  have 
one  of  those  caps,  before  examination  day." 

"  There,  Ronald,"  said  Oscar,  "  do  n't  begin  to  talk 
a  fortnight  beforehand  about  what  you  will  wear  to 
the  examination  —  that  sounds  a  little  too  much  like 
the  girls.  I  overheard  some  of  the  girls,  to-day,  talk- 
ing about  the  exhibition ;  and  they  did  n't  have  a 
word  to  say  about  the  lessons,  or  performances,  or 
anything  of  that  sort  —  it  was  all  dress,  dress,  dress. 
One  was  going  to  wear  white  muslin,  and  another 
pink,  and  one  was  going  to  do  her  hair  up  in  this  way, 


A    BOLD    ASSAULT.  275 

and  another  in  that  way,  and  so  on  to*  the  end  of  the 
chapter.  I  wonder  if  the  girls  ever  talk  about  any- 
thing besides  dress,  and  looks,  and  such  things." 

"  I  think  they  do,"  replied  Jessie.  "  I  suppose*  I  Ve 
been  among  the  girls  at  least  as  much  as  you  have, 
to-day,  and  I  do  n't  remember  hearing  a  word  about 
dress  or  personal  looks." 

"  Then  you  were  very  fortunate,"  said  Oscar.  "  I 
heard  enough  about  those  subjects,  at  any  rate.  One 
girl  said  she  M  give  anything  in  the  world,  if  her 
hair  would  only  curl ;  another  had  got  some  beautiful 
new  lace  to  trim  her  dress  ;  and  another  did  n't  intend 
to  wear  any  jewelry,  at  the  examination,  but  was 
going  to  trim  herself  up  with  buds  and  flowers, 
instead.  One  might  have  supposed,  from  the  way 
they  talked,  that  we  were  to  have  a  grand  examina- 
tion of  dresses,  and  nothing  else." 

"  And  Mr.  Paul  Pry  was  sneaking  around,  listening 
to  it  all,  was  he  ?  "  inquired  Kate. 

u  No,  I  did  n't  have  to  listen,  for  I  could  n't  help 
hearing,"  replied  Oscar.  "  But  I  did  n't  say  who  they 
were,  and  if  you  wont  expose  them,  Kate,  I  wont." 

"Oh,  I   care   nothing  about   your  exposing  us," 


276  A    BITTER    RETORT. 

retorted  Kate1 ;  "  I  was  only .  thinking  how  you  had 
exposed  yourself.  I  suppose  I  was  one  of  the  party 
he  refers  to.  Abby  Leonard  happened  to  come  along, 
and  you  know  she 's  always  talking  about  dress,  and 
she  began  to  tell  what  she  was  going  to  wear  exhibi- 
tion day.  So  the  others  joined  in  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  that  was  the  origin  of  all  this  fuss  about '  dress, 
dress,  dress.' " 

This  retort,  which  was  uttered  in  a  somewhat  bitter 
tone,  surprised  Oscar  very  much,  for  Kate  was  one  of 
the  best-natured  of  girls,  and  he  had  never  before 
heard  her  speak  in  this  way.  He  had  evidently 
touched  her  in  a  tender  spot,  and  he  began  to  think 
he  had  committed  a  serious  offence.  So  he  stam- 
mered out  the  best  apology  he  could  think  of,  saying 
that  he  only  spoke  of  the  matter  good-naturedly,  and 
meant  no  offence  to  any  one.  Ronald  and  Otis,  see- 
ing how  the  battle  was  going,  now  came  gallantly  to 
the  rescue  of  Oscar,  and  volunteered  their  testimony 
to  his  side  of  the  case.  The  girls,  they  said,  were  all 
the  time  talking  about  dress  —  they  noticed  it  every 
day. 

"Well,  supposing  we  do  talk  rather  more  about 


THE    DEBATE     ARRESTED.  277 

dress  than  we  ought  to,"  said  Kate,  "  I  think  you  are 
a  pretty  set  of  folks  to  rebuke  us  for  it.  There 's 
Oscar  —  there  is  n't  a  boy  or  young  man  in  the  acad- 
emy that  is  so  particular  about  dress  as  he  is ;  and 
Otis  can  never  go  within  forty  feet  of  a  looking-glass, 
without  stopping  to  smooth  his  hair ;  and  as  to  Ro- 
nald, if  he  had  n't  just  showed  what 's  running  in  his 
head,  nobody  would  have  thought  of  talking  about 
dress." 

Ronald  and  Otis  both  attempted  to  reply  to  this 
speech  at  once,  but  Mrs.  Page  stopped  them,  and  then 
said: 

"  This  debate  is  getting  to  be  a  little  too  spicy,  and 
I  think  it  had  better  be  brought  to  a  close.  In  my 
opinion,  both  sides  are  partly  right,  and  both  are 
partly  wrong.  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  of  the 
girls  think  and  talk  a  great  deal  too  much  of  what 
they  shall  wear,  and  how  they  shall  look.  It  is  a 
great  fault,  look  at  it  in  what  light  you  will.  There 
is  nothing  so  becoming  in  woman  or  girl  as  simplicity 
and  neatness  in  dress.  It  is  a  barbarous  taste  that  is 
fond  of  extravagant  and  gaudy  apparel,  or  showy  jew- 
elry. And  then,  this  taste  is  not  only  bad  in  itself, 
24 


278  LOVE     OF    DRESS. 

but  it  leads  to  a  great  many  evils.  A  woman  who 
has  it  soon  becomes  frivolous  and  vain  ;  she  overlooks 
honest  merit,  in  plain  attire  ;  she  is  jealous  and  envi- 
ous of  those  who  make  more  show  than  she  does  ;  she 
becomes  extravagant  and  reckless,  and  perhaps  drives 
her  father  or  husband  into  bankruptcy,  that  she  may 
have  the  means  to  gratify  her  selfish  taste.  It  is  all 
wrong,  from  beginning  to  end.  But  then  it  was 
hardly  fair  in  Oscar  to  intimate  that  all  the  girls  are 
given  to  this  folly.  I  believe  there  are  some  who 
think  and  talk  of  other  things  besides  dress." 

"  I  suppose  I  was  a  little  too  sweeping  in  saying 
i-hat,"  said  Oscar.  "  But  I  do  think  it  is  a  great  fault 
in  many  girls,  that  they  think  and  say  so  much  about 
dress.  I  Ve  thought  of  it  a  great  many  times." 

"  Now  you  're  talking  sensibly,"  said  Aunt  Fanny. 
"  I  think  we  all,  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen,  will  agree 
with  you  there.  We  are  all  acquainted  with  women 
and  girls  who  seem  to  think  more  of  dressing  well  and 
looking  pretty  than  of  anything  else.  I  have  known 
women  Avhose  whole  souls  seemed  to  be  bound  up  in 
dress ;  but  their  souls  were  very  small,  you  may 
depend  upon  that." 


A    GOOD    RULE.  279 

"I  think  there  is  something  very  belittling  and 
dwarfing  to  the  mind,  in  a  love  of  dress  and  finery," 
said  Mrs.  Page.  "  I  knew  a  woman  who  was  a  great 
lover  of  dress,  who,  at  the  age  of  forty,  had  no  more 
judgment,  or  stability,  or  strength  of  mind,  than  a 
child  ten  years  old ;  and  yet  she  was  naturally  a  per- 
son of  good  capacities.  She  devoted  her  mind  to  such 
petty  trifles,  that  instead  of  expanding  as  she  grew 
older,  it  shrivelled  up." 

"I  have  heard,"  said  Oscar,  "that  intelligent  for- 
eigners are  astonished  by  the  parade  of  silks,  and 
satins,  and  jewelry,  which  American  ladies  make  in 
the  streets,  and  in  the  hotels  and  watering  places. 
They  say  our  merchants'  and  mechanics'  wives  and 
daughters  often  dress  more  extravagantly  than  the 
nobility  of  Europe." 

"  Mother  used  to  say,"  said  Jessie,  "  that  the  best 
rule  is,  to  dress  so  that  people  will  not  notice  what 
you  have  on.  I  think  if  I  had  ever  so  much  money, 
I  should  not  want  to  dress  so  as  to  attract  attention, 
and  occasion  remark;  neither  do  I  want  to  dress  so 
poorly,  or  be  so  far  out  of  fashion,  that  people  cannot 
help  noticing  me." 


280         THE    TELEGRAPH    DESPATCH. 

"  That  is  a  safe  and  excellent  rule,"  said  Mrs.  Page, 
"  to  dress  so  that  people  will  not  recollect  what  you 
had  on.  There  is  a  command  in  the  Bible,  parties 
larly  addressed  to  women,  which  we  should  do  well  to 
remember :  '  Whose  adorning,  let  it  not  be  that  out- 
ward adorning  of  plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of 
gold,  or  of  putting  on  of  apparel ;  but  let  it  be  the 
hidden  man  of  the  heart,  in  that  which  is  not  corrupt- 
ible, even  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit, 
which  is  in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price.' " 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  firm  that  Abby's  father 
is  the  head  of?"  inquired  Marcus,  who  had  brought 
in  a  lamp,  and  was  reading  the  morning  newspaper. 

"  Leonard,  Vandenberg  &  Co.,"  replied  Ronald ; 
"I  thought  everybody  in  town  knew  that  by  heart, 
she 's  told  of  it  so  many  times." 

'"  They  have  failed,"  said  Marcus,  his  eye  still  upon 
the  paper ;  and  then  he  read  the  telegraph  despatch 
which  announced  the  fact.  It  was  as  follows  : 

"  Leonard,  Vandenberg  &  Co.,  one  of  our  largest 
commission  houses,  suspended  to-day.  Mr.  Vanden- 
berg mysteriously  disappeared  last  week,  and  it  is 
rumored  that  he  has  embezzled  a  large  portion  of  the 


THE    FAILURE.  281 

firm's  assets.  The  other  partners  have  surrendered 
everything,  but  the  failure  is  believed  to  be  a  very 
bad  one." 

"  What  will  poor  Abby  do,  now  ?  "  exclaimed  Jes- 
sie, with  unaffected  sympathy. 

"  I  do  n't  pity  her  one  mite  —  she  'd  no  business  to 
be  stuck  up  so,"  said  Kate,  who  had  not  yet  fully 
recovered  her  usual  good  nature. 

"  Her  pride  will  have  a  fall  now,  wont  it  ? "  added 
Otis. 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  if  it  proved  the  best  thing  that 
ever  happened  to  her,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  has  heard  of  it,  yet,"  said  Ronald. 
"  I  've  a  good  mind  to  go  and  tell  her  —  would  you  ?  " 

"  She 's  heard  of  it,  before  this  time  —  bad  news 
travels  fast,"  said  Mrs.  Page. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  girl — it  must  be  a 
terrible  blow  to  her,"  said  Marcus. 

And  so  one  and  another  commented  on  the  news, 
most  of  the  little  company  expressing  sympathy  for 
Abby,  though  she  was  by  no  means  a  favorite  with 
any  of  them.  Even  Kate  so  far  relented,  before  the 
matter  was  dropped,  as  to  express  the  hope  that  none 
24* 


282  AN    EXPLOSION. 

of  the  scholars  would  "  twit "  Abby  about  the  sudden 
change  in  her  position. 

Abby  appeared  at  school,  the  next  morning,  holding 
her  head,  as  high  as  ever,  and  apjjarently  as  calm  and 
happy  as  though  nothing  out  of  the  usual  course  had 
occurred.  She  must  have  been  conscious,  it  would 
seem,  that  she  was  the  centre  of  many  sidelong 
glances,  and  that  there  was  an  unusual  amount  of 
whispering  going  on  among  the  girls ;  but  she  did  not 
appear  to  notice  these  significant  signs.  So  it  began 
to  be  believed  that  she  had  not  heard  of  her  father's 
failure.  After  a  while,  however,  one  miss  who  had 
had  many  a  sharp  encounter  with  Abby,  unable  to 
stand  the  painful  suspense  any  longer,  bluntly  put  the 
question  to  her  old  enemy,  in  the  presence  of  several 
of  her  school-mates  — 

"  Did  you  see  the  Boston  papers,  yesterday  ?  " 

"  It 's  nothing  to  you  whether  I  did  or  not,"  instantly 
replied  Abby,  her  face  white  with  passion,  and  her 
frame  trembling  with  excitement. 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  be  so  touchy  about  it,"  replied 
the  other  girl.  "  I  only  asked,  because  I  thought  it 
would  be  doing  you  a  favor  to  tell  you  your  father 
had  failed,  if  you  did  n't  know  it." 


THE    STRUGGLE.  283 

"  I  wish  folks  would  mind  their  own  business,  and 
W  me  alone,"  said  Abby  in  the  same  angry  tone,  and 
she  turned  away  from  the  group,  who  had  listened  to 
this  conversation. 

"  I  declare;  she  has  a  queer  way  of  expressing  her 
sorrow,"  said  the  other  girl,  before  Abby  had  got  out 
of  hearing. 

Abby  heard  of  her  father's  failure,  almost  as  soon 
as  she  reached  her  boarding-place,  after  school,  the 
previous  day.  The  intelligence  fell  upon  her  like  a 
thunderbolt.  She  retired  to  her  room,  and  cried  for 
several  hours,  and  finally,  nature  becoming  exhausted, 
she  sobbed  herself  to  sleep.  The  next  morning,  the 
question  arose  in  her  mind,  whether  she  should  stay 
at  home,  and  thus  avoid  meeting  her  school-mates, 
whose  taunts  she  was  perhaps  conscious  she  had  rea- 
son to  expect ;  or  whether  she  should  go  boldly  and 
mingle  with  them,  exhibiting  before  them  a  total  un- 
concern in  regard  to  the  failure.  She  finally  adopted 
the  latter  course,  and  we  have  seen  how  far  she  suc- 
ceeded. There  were  some  among  her  associates  who 
longed  to  whisper  a  word  of  sympathy  or  encourage- 
ment in  her  ear ;  but  the  bravado  air  she  assumed  for. 


284  ONE    FRIEND    LEFT. 

bade,  and  the  poor  girl  found  she  had  doomed  herself 
to  hug  the  crushing  burden  secretly  to  her  heart,  with- 
out a  loving  word  of  pity  from  any  of  her  young  asso- 
ciates. 

The  academy  was  dismissed  in  the  afternoon,  and 
Abby  was  hurrying  away  from  her  schoolmates,  when 
an  arm  was  softly  laid  upon  her  shoulder,  and,  turn- 
ing, she  found  Jessie  by  her  side.  In  the  kindest  and 
most  delicate  way,  Jessie  alluded  to  the  misfortune 
that  had  overtaken  Abby,  and  expressed  her  sympa- 
thy for  her.  And  then  she  went  on  to  tell  her  how 
this  very  loss  might  prove,  in  the  end,  a  great  blessing 
to  her  family,  and  especially  to  herself.  It  might  lead 
her  to  depend  upon  herself,  instead  of  others ;  to  think 
less  of  fashion,  and  show,  and  position,  and  wealth,  and 
more  of  a  well-cultivated  mind,  an  amiable  spirit,  and 
a  useful  life.  It  might,  in  fact,  be  the  making  of  her, 
if,  instead  of  sitting  down  and  repining,  she  would  now 
begin  to  live  for  some  good  purpose.  And  then  Jessie 
argued  that  the  misfortune  was  not  half  so  bad  as  it 
might  have  been.  Mr.  Leonai-d  was  not  an  embez- 
zler, like  his  partner,  but  had  honorably  surrendered 
his  property.  The  loss  of  money,  she  said,  was  noth- 
ing compared  with  the  loss  of  integrity  and  character. 


PBIDE    MELTED.  285 

Abby  at  first  received  Jessie's  condolence  rather 
cavalierly.  She  said  her  family  always  had  lived  in 
style,  and  she  did  not  believe  they  would  come  down 
flow.  Her  father  was  a  great  merchant,  she  said,  and 
if  he  had  lost  some  of  his  money,  he  knew  how  to 
make  plenty  more.  In  fact,  she  didn't  consider  it 
any  great  thing  if  he  had  failed.  But  this  assumed 
indifference  to  her  trouble  soon  melted  away  under  the 
kind  and  sympathizing  words  of  Jessie,  and  Abby  at 
length  fully  opened  her  heart,  and  found  some  degree 
of  relief  in  pouring  out  her  griefs  in  the  ear  of  her 
friend. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GETTING    UP    IN    THE    WORLD. 

FT!  HE  academy  term  was  now  about  to  close,  and  the 
students  were  quite  earnestly  engaged  in  review- 
ing studies,  preparatory  to  the  approaching  examina> 
tion.  Nothing  else  was  talked  much  about,  even  by 
the  boys.  Ronald  came  marching  into  the  house  one 
afternoon,  fresh  from  school,  repeating  the  words : 

"Step  by  step  —  step  by  step  —  step  by  step;" 
adding,  "  that 's  our  countersign,  mother  —  the  schol- 
ar's countersign ;  Mr.  Upton  gave  it  to  us  to-day." 

"  I  thought  a  countersign  was  something  to  be  kept 
private  in  the  camp ;  but  you  seem  to  take  consider- 
able pains  to  make  yours  public,"  said  Mrs.  Page. 

"  Well,  it  wont  make  any  difference,"  said  Ronald ; 
"  Mr.  Upton  called  it  a  countersign,  but  he  did  n't  tell 
us  to  keep  it  secret." 


STEP    BY    STEP.  287 

4» 

"  What  did  he  give  you  such  a  countersign,  for  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Page. 

"O,  he  was  telling  us  how  we  might  get  so  as  to 
know  more  than  common  folks,"  replied  Ronald.  "  He 
said  that  when  he  was  a  boy,  all  great  and  learned 
people  seemed  to  be  perched  on  the  top  of  a  high  pin- 
nacle, and  he  used  to  envy  them ;  but  he  said  he  had 
no  idea,  then,  how  they  got  up  there,  only  he  thought 
there  was  some  sort  of  a  miraculous  good  luck  about 
it.  But  he  said  he  had  since  discovered  that  there 
was  no  royal  road  to  learning,  and  that  if  any  man 
wanted  to  get  to  the  top  of  the  pinnacle,  he  had  got  to 
go  up  step  by  step.  He  could  n't  fly  up,  nor  leap  up, 
nor  sail  up  in  a  balloon,  nor  go  up  in  a  railroad  train, 
nor  ride  up  on  somebody's  back,  nor  pull  himself  up 
by  the  waistband  of  his  trousers,  nor  — " 

"Why,  Ronald  Page,  he  said  no  such  thing!"  inter- 
posed Kate,  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  with 
Jessie. 

"Well,  it  amounted  to  the  same  thing,  —  I've  got 
the  idea,  at  any  rate,"  replied  Ronald.  "What  he 
meant  was,  that  everybody  had  to  work  to  get  up 
there  —  they  went  step  by  step,  step  by  step ;  he  kept 


288  p  o  R  s  o  K  . 

bringing  that  in,  every  minute.  Was  there  ever  such 
a  person  as  Person,  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  very  learned  Englishman  named 
Person;  he  was  a  celebrated  Greek  scholar  and  a 
critic, "  replied  Mrs.  Page. 

"  He  was  the  man,  then,"  said  Ronald ;  "  for  Mr. 
Upton  told  us  he  used  to  say  any  one  might  become 
as  good  a  critic  as  he  was,  if  he  would  only  take 
trouble  to  make  himself  so ;  and  Mr.  Upton  said  that 
sometimes  when  Person  wanted  to  be  sure  and  learn 
a  thing,  he  would  read  it  a  dozen  times,  and  then  copy 
it  off  six  times.  That  was  the  way  he  got  to  be  so 
learned  and  famous,  I  suppose." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  paid  unusual  attention  to  Mr. 
Upton's  remarks,"  said  Jessie ;  "  you  Ve  repeated  them 
very  well." 

"  I  do  n't  believe  I  shall  forget  that '  step  by  step ' 
very  soon ;  why,  I  should  think  he  said  that  over  more 
than  twenty  times." 

"  I  thought,  while  he  was  making  the  remarks,  of 
that  French  engraving  of  the  top  of  the  pyramid,  in 
your  portfolio,"  said  Jessie,  addressing  Aunt  Fanny. 

"  What,  that  soldier  on  the  top  of  a  pyramid  ?  Let 
me  find  it,  will  you,  Aunt  Fanny  ?  "  said  Eonald. 


TOP    OF    THE    PYRAMID.  291 

Permission  was  given,  and  Ronald  soon  found  the 

• 
picture,  a  copy  of  which  is  given  on  the  opposite  page. 

It  represents  a  French  grenadier  at  the  top  of  an 
Egyptian  pyramid.  You  perceive  he  is  a  little  ele- 
vated— about  four  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  the 
surface  of  the  earth* —  and  may  well  be  pardoned  for 
exhibiting  a  slight  degree  of  enthusiasm. 

"  The  engraving  is  a  pretty  good  illustration  of  Mr. 
Upton's  remarks,"  said  Jessie.  "  You  know  the  pyra- 
mids, a  little  way  off,  look  as  if  their  sides  were 
smooth ;  at  least  they  look  so  in  pictures.  Now,  if 
we  should  see  a  man  on  top  of  one  of  them,  we  should 
wonder  how  he  got  there.  "We  should  think  there 
was  some  miracle  about  it,  or  else  that  he  had  got 
faculties  that  common  people  don't  possess, — just  as 
some  people  think  when  they  see  a  learned  man.  But 
if  we  go  up  to  the  pyramid,  we  shall  find  that  its  sides 
are  composed  of  steps,  all  the  way  up,  and  that  the 
way  to  reach  the  top  is  to  climb  those  steps,  one  by 
one." 

"  I  always  thought  the  sides  of  the  pyramids  were 

> 
smoothed   off  even,  till   I   saw    that   picture,"  said 

Ronald. 


292  PERSEVERANCE. 

"  When  I  went  to  school,"  said  Mrs.  Page,  "  our 

• 
teacher  used  to  encourage  us,  if  we  got  disheartened, 

by  telling  us  that '  what  man  has  done,  man  may  do.' 
I  heard  that  saying  so  often,  that  I  got  perfectly  sick  of 
it ;  but,  after  all,  there  is  a  good  deal  of  meaning  in  it. 
It  is  n't  literally  true  that  what  one  man  has  done,  any 
otljer  man  can  do.  I  might  study  as  hard  and  as  long 
as  Milton  did,  and  yet  I  never  should  be  able  to  write 
such  a  poem  as  Paradise  Lost.  Some  men  are  more 
highly  endowed  by  God  than  others.  But,  by  patient 
effort,  and  perseverance,  and  quietly  going  along  step 
by  step,  as  Mr.  Upton  says,  we  can  do  wonders.  We 
can  accomplish  anything,  in  fact,  that  does  not  require 
a  very  rare  and  peculiar  endowment  from  God.  This 
is  the  way  most  people  become  eminent,  and  it  is  the 
way  all  become  learned.  They  toil  up  the  steep 
mountain,  one  step  at  a  time,  and  if  they  get  far  above 
the  crowd,  you  may  know  that  they  have  worked  hard, 
and  have  a  right  to  swing  then-  hats  a  little,  with 
honest  pride,  as  the  soldier  in  the  picture  is  doing." 

"  O,  mother ! "  exclaimed  Ronald,  "  did  you  know 
Kate  was  admitted  to  the  Grade  of  Honor,  to-day  ? " 

"  No,  I  've  heard  nothing  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Page. 


GRADE     OF    HONOB.  293 

"  Well,  she  was,"  added  Ronald ;  "  and  it  was  lucky 
for  her,  for  it  was  the  last  chance  —  there  wont  be 
any  more  promotions  before  examination.'' 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  she  succeeded ;  but  did  n't  you 
get  in,  too  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Page. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  replied  Ronald,  looking  a  little 
ashamed ;  "  I  did  n't  expect  to.  But  Marcus  said  I 
should  have  got  in,  if  I  had  n't  whispered  so  much." 

"  Do  n't  you  think  it  would  have  been  better  if  you 
had  denied  yourself  the  gratification  of  whispering, 
and  got  admitted  to  the  Grade  of  Honor  ? "  inquired 
Mrs.  Page. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  Ronald,  "  I  wish  I  had ;  but 
it's  too  late  now.  But,  after  all,  I  shouldn't  care 
about  going  in  at  the  eleventh  hour,  just  for  a  fort- 
night; I  should  feel  as  if  I  didn't  hardly  belong 
there." 

"  O,  yes,  you  do  n't  think  much  of  sour  grapes,  do 
you  ?  "  said  Kate,  who  thought  this  was  a  reflection 
upon  herself. 

"  Better  late  than  never :  better  get  in  at  the 
eleventh  hour  than  not  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Page. 

"  Well,  mother,  I  '11  get  into  the  Grade  of  Honor  at 
25* 


294  THE     TWO     GRADES. 

the  very  beginning  of  the  next  term, — you  see  if  I 
do  n't,"  added  Eonald. 

"  I  hope"  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Page  ;  "  and  if  you 
resolve  to  do  so,  I  Ve  no  doubt  you  will." 

This  Grade  of  Honor,  which  they  were  talking 
about,  had  been  established  in  the  academy,  at  the 
commencement  of  that  term,  as  a  substitute  for  prizes. 
It  had  been  customary  to  award  prizes,  at  the  end  of 
each  term,  for  good  behavior  and  successful  scholar- 
ship. But  there  were  always  many  disappointed 
faces  when  the  awards  were  made  ;  and,  as  the  prizes 
were  few,  and  the  attainments  and  merits  of  the  best 
scholars  were  often  so  nearly  equal  that  it  was  difficult 
to  discriminate  between  them,  it  not  seldom  happened 
that  some  who  failed  to  get  a  prize  were  as  deserving 
as  some  who  competed  successfully  for  that  honor. 
So,  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  term,  Mr.  Upton 
said  he  was  going  to  try  a  new  system,  as  an  experi- 
ment, which  would  allow  every  scholar  to  reach  the 
highest  honor,  if  he  chose  to.  The  system  was  as 
follows : 

Two  grades  or  classes  were  established,  the  first 
and  lower  being  known  as  the  Grade  of  Fidelity,  and 


GEADE    OP    FIDELITY.  295 

the  higher  as  the  Grade  of  Honor.  Excellence  of 
deportment,  and  diligent  effort  and  general  faithfulness 
in  studies,  were  the  passport  to  the  first  grade.  It 
was  not  necessary  to  be  a  very  bright  scholar,  to  get 
into  the  Grade  of  Fidelity.  It  was  open  to  all  who 
made  faithful  endeavors,  and  who  paid  a  decent  re- 
spect to  the  rules  of  the  school.  Those  who,  after  at 
least  a  month's  probation  hi  the  Grade  of  Fidelity, 
distinguished  themselves  by  their  fidelity  to  all  the 
duties  of  the  school-room,  and  by  the  general  excel- 
lence of  their  moral  characters  (mere  intellectual 
superiority,  you  will  observe,  was  not  taken  into  the 
account),  were  admitted  to  the  Grade  of  Honor.  The 
preceptor  kept  a  credit  and  demerit  account  with  each 
scholar,  and  by  this,  principally,  his  or  her  standing 
was  determined.  Every  alternate  week  candidates 
were  admitted  to  each  grade. 

The  ceremony  of  admission  to  the  grades  was  quite 
interesting.  These  who  were  to  enter  the  Grade 
of  Fidelity,  were  called  out  by  the  preceptor,  and 
arranged  themselves  in  a  line  before  his  desk.  He 
then  addressed  to  them  a  few  words  of  congratulation 
and  advice,  after  which  he  said  : 


296  GRADE     OF    FIDELITY. 

"I  now  present  these  candidates  for  admission  to 
the  Grade  of  Fidelity.  If  it  be  your  will  that  they 
be  accepted,  you  will  please  to  signify  it." 

The  members  of  the  grade  having  previously  been 
seated  together,  in  the  front  desks,  now  voted  on  the 
question,  by  putting  into  a  box  that  was  passed  round 
a  slip  of  paper  on  which  was  usually  inscribed,  "  Yes 
— all."  If  a  member  objected  to  any  candidate,  he 

wrote,  "  Yes  —  all  except ,"  naming  the  person 

he  objected  to.  Unless  a  candidate  was  objected  to 
by  at  least  one-fourth  of  the  members,  he  was  ad- 
mitted. When  it  was  ascertained  that  the  vote  was 
affirmative,  the  preceptor  hung  a  blue  silk  ribbon 
around  the  neck  of  each  candidate.  The  members 
then  filed  out  from  their  seats,  and  after  giving  the 
hand  of  fellowship  to  their  new  comrades,  the  whole 
company  joined  hands,  and  sung  one  verse  of  a  song, 
commencing : 

"  We  're  a  band  of  faithful  firiehds." 

The  blue  ribbon  was  the  badge  of  the  Grade  of  Fi- 
delity, and  was  worn  at  the  reception  of  candidates,  at 
the  examination  of  the  academy,  and  on  other  special 


GRADE    OP    HONOR.  297 

occasions.  The  scholars  in  this  grade  enjoyed  no 
privileges  over  their  fellows;  but  it  was  considered 
quite  important  to  gain  admittance  to  it,  unless  one 
was  content  to  be  rated  very  low,  morally  if  not 
mentally.  Before  the  term  ended,  about  three-fourths 
of  the  students  had  been  admitted  to  the  ranks  of  the 
"  Fidels,"  as  they  sometimes  abbreviated  their  name. 
Some,  however,  were  afterwards  degraded ;  for  if  a 
member  fell  below  the  standard,  or  was  guilty  of  any 
serious  offence,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  grade. 

It  was  not  so  easy  to  get  into  the  Grade  of  Honor. 
One  had  to  be  very  exemplary  in  conduct,  and  very 
pure  in  character,  to  gam  admittance  there.  Less 
than  one  in  six  of  the  scholars  passed  this  searching 
ordeal.  The  names  of  candidates  to  this  grade  were 
posted  up  in  the  school-room,  three  days  before  the 
ceremony  of  admission.  Any  member  of  the  acad- 
emy had  a  right  to  object  to  a  candidate,  and  could 
privately  inform  the  preceptor  of  his  reasons.  If  a 
candidate  was  known  to  be  profane,  or  untruthful,  or 
dishonest,  or  chewed  or  smoked  tobacco,  or  was  ad- 

s 

dieted  to  any  other  bad  habit,  he  was  rejected,  no 
matter  how  exemplary  his  conduct  in  school  might  be. 


?98  ADMISSION    CEREMONIES. 

When  the  hour  came  to  admit  candidates  to  the 
Grade  of  Honor,  those  to  whom  no  valid  objection 
had  been  made,  presented  themselves,  in  front  of  the 
preceptor's  desk,  the  members  of  the  grade  being 
seated  upon  the  platform.  A  separate  ballot  was 
taken  for  each  candidate,  and  if  one-fourth  voted  nay, 
he  was  rejected.  The  preceptor  then  affixed  the 
badge  of  the  grade,  a  pink  silk  rosette,  to  the  left 
breast  of  the  accepted  candidate ;  and  then,  taking 
him  by  the  hand,  he  addressed  to  him  a  few  affection- 
ate words  of  welcome.  When  all  had  gone  through 
this  ceremony,  the  members  of  the  grade  formed  a 
ring,  inside  of  which  the  candidates  were  admitted,  one 
at  a  time.  After  making  the  circuit,  and  receiving  the 
hand  of  fellowship  from  each  one,  the  new  member 
fell  into  the  ranks,  and  another  candidate  passed 
through  the  same  ceremony,  and  so  on  to  the  end. 
The  whole  school  then  arose  and  sang  a  song  begin- 
ning: 

"  Who  are  these,  with  honors  decked;" 

the  members  of  the  grade,  meanwhile,  standing  in  a 
circle,  with  clasped  hands.     When  the   singing  was 


PRIVILEGES.  299 

over,  they  returned  to  their  desks,  the  school  remain- 
ing standing  until  they  had  taken  their  seats.  So 
ended  the  ceremony  of  the  initiation. 

Those  who  belonged  to  the  Grade  of  Honor  enjoyed 
sundry  privileges  that  were  denied  to  other  students. 
They  could  leave  their  seats  without  permission,  and 
could  even  leave  the  room  during  study  hours,  without 
being  called  to  account.  They  had  access  at  all  times 
to  the  library,  while  the  other  students  enjoyed  its 
privileges  under  some  restrictions.  They  were  also 
clothed  with  a  sort  of  monitorial  power,  and  as  their 
testimony  was  received  by  the  teachers  with  unwaver- 
ing faith,  it  was  counted  a  poor  time  to  brew  mischief 
when  one  of  this  class  was  around.  It  was  of  course 
expected  that  they  would  never  take  improper  advan- 
tage of  their  privileges,  and,  like  the  other  grade,  they 
were  liable  to  lose  their  position  if  found  unworthy. 

Jessie  was  among  the  first  who  were  admitted  to  the 
Grade  of  Honor.  Ronald  and  Otis,  after  some  delay, 
worked  their  way  into  the  Grade  of  Fidelity,  but  did 
not  rise  higher.  Kate,  as  has  been  already  stated, 
rose  to  the  higher  grade  on  the  last  day  when  promo- 
tions were  made,  for  that  term. 


300  ABBY'S  DEPARTURE. 

Abby  Leonard  did  not  remain  long  in  Highburg, 
after  her  father's  failure.  After  the  first  day,  it  was 
evident  to  all  that  she  was  troubled  and  humbled,  and 
those  who  had  been  inclined  to  exult  over  her  down- 
fall, now  began  to  pity  her.  But  a  message  calling 
her  home  soon  came,  and  she  was  apparently  not  sorry 
to  get  away  from  a  place  which  had  become  so  unpleas- 
ant to  her.  Only  a  few  of  her  associates  knew  of  her 
intention  to  go,  until  she  had  left  town. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

TIDINGS. 

TESSIE  heard  nothing  from  her  brother  Sam,  until 
about  a  fortnight  after  her  interview  with  him  at 
Round  Hill  Pond,  when  Marcus  called  her  attention 
to  the  following  paragraph  in  a  Boston  newspaper : 

"  A  FIGHT.  —  The  police  were  called  last  night  to 
quell  a  fight  in  a  notorious  dance  cellar  in  North 
Street,  which  for  a  time  threatened  serious  conse- 
quences. There  were  several  bloody  heads  in  the 
crowd,  but  the  only  person  seriously  injured  was  a 
Vermont  youth,  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old,  who,  it 
is  said,  being  crazed  with  liquor,  joined  in  the  melee, 
attacking  both  parties  with  equal  vigor.  His  name  is 
said  to  be  Hapley.  His  injuries  are  so  serious  that  he 
was  sent  to  the  hospital." 

There  could  be  scarcely  a  doubt  as  to  who  this 
26 


302  THE    LETTER. 

youth  was,  and  Jessie  proposed  to  hasten  at  once  to 
the  relief  of  her  wayward  brother.  Her  friends, 
however,  prevailed  upon  her  to  abandon  this  purpose, 
Marcus  promising  to  write  forthwith  to  Mr.  Preston, 
Oscar's  father,  who  lived  in  Boston,  and  ask  him  to 
make  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  injured  boy.  Marcus 
accordingly  wrote  to  his  uncle,  and  in  a  few  days 
received  the  following  reply  : 

"  BOSTON,  May  17,  185-. 

"  Mr  DEAR  NEPHEW  :  —  Your  favor  of.  the  loth 
came  to  hand,  and  it  afforded  me  much  pleasure  to 
comply  with  your  request.  I  called  at  the  hospital 
this  morning,  and  saw  the  young  man  who  was  injured 
in  the  fight.  He  acknowledged  he  was  the  brother  of 
the  young  lady  who  lives  with  you,  and  said  if  he  had 
followed  her  advice  he  never  should  have  been  in  this 
scrape.  He  was  not  hurt  so  badly  as  was  at  first  sup- 
posed, and  is  getting  along  very  well.  The  doctor 
says  he  will  be  discharged  in  a  few  days.  He  did  not 
seem  inclined  to  say  much,  but  he  wished  me  to  inform 
his  sister  that  he  was  not  intoxicated  at  the  time  of 
the  assault,  and  that  he  took  no  part  in  the  fight,  but 
was  only  looking  on.  He  says  he  drank  nothing  that 
night  but  a  glass  of  lager  beer.  I  advised  him  to 
leave  the  city,  as  soon  as  he  was  able,  and  to  go  back 


INTEKVIEW    WITH    SAM.  303 

to  Vermont ;  but  lie  said  he  had  no  home  there,  and 
no  friends  to  look  to  for  assistance.  I  then  tried  to 
persuade  him  to  avoid  bad  associates,  and  to  seek 
steady  and  respectable  employment,  if  he  remained  in 
the  city.  I  also  gave  him  my  card,  and  told  him  that 
if  he  would  call  on  me,  after  he  was  discharged,  I 
would  try  to  help  him  procure  employment.  You 
may  assure  his  sister  that  if  I  can  do  anything  to  save 
him  from  ruin,  it  shall  be  most  gladly  done. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  so  favorable  a  report  from 
Oscar.  I  can  never  repay  you  and  your  mother  and 
aunt  for  the  obligation  you  have  laid  me  under,  in 
doing  what  you  have  done  for  that  boy.  He  has 
persevered  so  long,  that  I  think  his  reform  will  be 
permanent.  We  have  concluded  to  let  him  spend  a 
week  or  two  of  his  vacation  with  us,  if  you  can  spare 
him  as  well  as  not.  If  he  comes,  send  him  as  soon  as 
you  please  after  the  term  closes.  We  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  and  your  mother  or  Aunt  Fanny 
come  with  him,  if  you  can  leave  home. 

"  Please  tell  Oscar  that  Jerry,  his  runaway  cousin, 
has  got  home.  He  was  wrecked  at  sea,  and  given  up 
for  lost,  and  has  experienced  any  amount  of  startling 
adventures  and  hair-breadth  escapes.  His  story  is 
quite  an  interesting  one,  but  it  is  so  long  that  I  will 
not  attempt  to  give  it  here.  Oscar  will  learn  all  the 
particulars  when  he  comes  home.  Jerry  says  he  has 


304  JERRY. 

had  enough  of  going  to  sea,  and  means  to  settle  down 
on  the  land,  now.  He  arrived  here  last  week,  after 
an  absence  of  about  fifteen  months,  and  started  for  his 
home  the  same  night. 

"  Our  family  are  all  well,  and  send  love  to  all 
the  folks.  Oscar's  old  friend,  Willie  Davenport,  or 
1  Whistler,'  as  he  is  still  called,  is  spending  the  even- 
ing with  Ralph,  and  wishes  to  be  remembered  to 
Oscar.  Ralph  has  teased  me  to  forward  the  little  toy 
you  will  find  enclosed,  as  a  present  to  Ronald.  It  is 
designed  to  be  twirled  round  by  the  strings,  —  I  sup- 
pose he  will  understand  it.  Ralph  has  taken  quite  a 
fancy  to  Ronald,  although  he  has  never  seen  him. 
Hoping  to  see  you  soon,  I  remain 

"  Your  affectionate  uncle, 

"  HENRY  PRESTON." 

This  letter  greatly  relieved  Jessie's  anxiety.  Be- 
fore going  to  bed,  she  wrote  an  affectionate  letter  to 
her  brother,  assuring  him  of  her  continued  love  and 
interest,  and  entreating  him  to  go  to  his  mother,  and 
accept  the  situation  she  had  procured  for  him. 

Oscar  was  delighted  to  hear  of  the  safe  arrival  of 
his  cousin  Jerry.  The  two  boys  had  at  one  time  been 
very  ultimate.  Jerry's  parents  lived  in  a  small  back- 
woods village  in  Maine,  named  Brookdale.  His  father 


OSCAR    AND    JERRY  305 

was  engaged  in  the  logging  business,  and  also  carried 
on  a  farm.  When  Oscar  was  about  fourteen  years 

old,  he  was  so  unmanageable  at  home,  and  was  so 

» 

rapidly  forming  bad  acquaintances,  that  his  father  sent 
him  down  to  Brookdale,  where  he  spent  several 
months,  and  would  have  remained  longer,  had  he  not 
got  into  a  serious  "  scrape, "  which  compelled  him  to 
leave  town.  Oscar's  influence  upon  Jerry,  who  was 
about  a  year  younger  than  himself,  was  very  unfavor- 
able. Indeed,  it  was  mainly  owing  to  this  bad  influ- 
ence that  Jerry  ran  away  from  home,  a  few  weeks 
after  Oscar  left  the  village,  and  started  on  the  long 
voyage  from  which  he  had  just  returned.*  The 
vessel  in  which  Jerry  shipped  was  wrecked  on  the 
homeward  passage,  and  he  was  supposed  to  have  been 
lost,  until  his  unexpected  appearance  in  Boston,  as 
mentioned  in  Mr.  Preston's  letter.  Oscar,  since  he 
had  tried  to  reform,  had  regretted  very  much  the  evil 
influence  he  had  exerted  upon  Jerry  ;  and,  though  he 
never  said  anything  about  it,  he  felt  that  he  was,  to 
some  extent,  responsible  for  his  cousin's  ruin.  It  is 

*The  career  of  Jerry  is  more  fully  related  in  the  first  two 
volumes  of  this  series,  "  Oscar  "  and  "  Clinton." 

26* 


306  A    FORLORN     HOPE. 

not  strange,  therefore,  that  he  was  rejoiced  to  hear 
that  his  old  comrade  and  pupil  in  mischief  was  not 

dead,  but  alive,  and  had  still  a  chance  to  mend  his 

• 

ways,  and  become  an  honest  and  respectable  man. 

"Who  knows  but  that  father  will  come  home,  yet?" 
said  Marcus,  who  had  sat  musing,  while  the  others 
were  talking  about  Jerry. 

"  I  gave  up  all  hope  of  that  long  ago,"  replied  his 
mother.  "  It  is  over  ten  years  since  your  father 
sailed,  and  it  is  idle  to  expect  ever  to  see  him  again  in 
this  world." 

"  I  do  n't  think  so,  mother,"  replied  Marcus.  "  You 
know  the  whalers  pass  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  good 
many  islands  in  the  Pacific  that  are  inhabited  only 
by  savages.  Now  is  n't  it  possible  that  father  was 
wrecked  on  one  of  these  islands,  and  is  still  there,  and 
unable  to  get  away?  We  know  such  things  have 
happened.  I  have  read  of  sailors  being  wrecked  on 
some  of  these  islands,  and  living  with  the  savages  a 
good  many  years,  before  they  could  communicate  with 
any  vessel.  I  sha'n't  give  up  all  hopes  of  seeing 
father  yet,  for  five  years,  at  least." 

"  I  cherished  that  hope,  until  it  seemed  like  hoping 
against  hope,"  replied  Mrs.  Page,  sadly. 


CAGE    AND    BIRD.  307 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Ronald  and 
Otis  had  been  deeply  engaged  with  the  toy  sent  by 
Oscar's  brother.  It  consisted  of  a  circular  card,  on 
one  side  of  which  was  painted  a  bird-cage,  and  on  the 


other  a  bird.  There  were  strings  on  each  side  of  the 
card,  by  which  it  could  be  rapidly  twirled  round, 
which  operation  made  the  bird  look  as  if  he  were 
actually  in  the  cage.  The  engraving  which  we  give 
of  this  little  toy  necessarily  represents  it  as  composed 
of  two  cards,  but  there  is  only  one.  Do  you  know 
why  the  bird  is  represented  upside  down?  Did 
you  ever  notice  that  the  top  of  one  side  of  a  coin  is 
always  the  bottom  of  the  other  side  ?  Both  of  these 
facts  are  to  be  explained  on  the  same  principle.  We 
do  not  turn  over  a  coin  as  we  do  the  leaf  of  a  book, 
but  we  reverse  the  top  and  bottom.  As  the  card 


308  THE    TOT    EXPLAINED. 

revolves,  the  bird  will  of  course  show  himself  right 
side  up. 

"  Ronald,  can  you  explain  why  it  is  that  the  bird 
looks  as  if  he  were  in  the  cage  ?  "  asked  Marcus,  after 
he  had  examined  the  toy. 

"  I  suppose  it 's  because  the  card  revolves  so  fast 
that  we  see  both  sides  at  once,"  replied  Ronald. 

"  That  is  hardly  a  philosophical  explanation,"  said 
Marcus.  "The  true  reason  is,  the  image  of  the  bird 
is  brought  to  the  retina  of  the  eye  before  the  image 
of  the  cage  has  passed  away,  and  so  both  unite,  and 
produce  the  image  of  a  bird  and  cage.  The  image  of 
an  object  on  the  retina  does  not  vanish  the  instant  the 
object  is  withdrawn,  but  is  retained  a  brief  period 
afterward.  This  is  the  reason  that  two  objects  may 
be  seen  in  the  same  place  at  once,  while  each  of  them 
is  presented  to  the  retina  but  half  the  time." 

Aunt  Fanny  said  she  had  seen  a  mouse  and  a  trap 
represented  in  this  way.  She  also  suggested  that  the 
body  and  legs  of  a  man  might  be  painted  on  one  side, 
and  his  arms  and  head  on  the  other ;  or  a  horse  on 
one  side  and  his  rider  on  the  other  ;  or  a  portrait,  and 
a  frame  ;  or  a  cell,  and  a  prisoner ;  and  several  other 
devices  were  named. 


OSCAR'S  VISIT   HOME.  300 

It  was  settled  that  Oscar  should  avail  himself  of 
his  father's  invitation,  and  spend  his  vacation  in  Bos- 
ton. He  promised  Jessie  that  he  would  try  to  find 
Sam,  and  persuade  him  to  return  to  Vermont.  He 
also  promised  Ronald  that  he  would  take  charge  of 
sundry  cakes  of  maple  sugar  which  the  latter  desired 
to  send  to  Ralph,  in  return  for  his  present. 

This  invitation  home  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was 
agreeable  to  Oscar.  He  had  not  anticipated  visiting 
Boston  until  the  next  autumn.  It  was  judged,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  become  so  fixed  in  his  good  purposes 
and  habits,  there  would  be  no  risk,  in  allowing  him  to 
return  for  a  week  or  two  to  the  scene  of  his  former 
temptations  and  misdeeds. 


CHAPTER  XVHI. 

THE    SURPRISE    PARTY. 

FpHE  twentieth  of  May  at  length  came,  and  the 
academic  term  closed  with  a  searching  examina- 
tion of  the  several  classes.  It  went  a  little  deeper 
than  faces  or  dresses,  and  revealed  to  the  assembled 
magnates  of  the  town  something  of  the  daily  habits, 
the  intellectual  standing  and  the  private  character  of 
each  pupil.  The  result,  as  a  whole,  was  quite  favor- 
able to  the  institution,  and  there  were  very  few  of  the 
scholars  who  positively  reflected  no  credit  upon  it.  It 
was  evident  enough  where  the  blame  lay,  in  these 
cases  —  the  school  register  told  the  story. 

Mr.  Upton  invited  his  assistants,  Marcus  and  Jessie, 
to  take  tea  with  him,  at  the  close  of  the  examination. 
They  accepted  the  invitation,  and  after  an  hour  or  two, 
passed  very  pleasantly  with  their  friend,  Marcus  pro- 


A    SURPBISE.  311 

posed  to  return  home,  as  he  ha4  basiness  to  attend  to. 
Mr.  Upton  said  that,  as  he  had  been  closely  confined 
through  the  -day,  he  thought  the  fresh  air  would  do 
him  good,  so  he  proposed  to  walk  home  with  them. 
As  soon  as  they  came  in  sight  of  Mrs.  Page's  house, 
an  unusual  display  of  lights  attracted  attention,  and 
set  them  to  conjecturing  what  it  could  mean.  On 
entering  the  house,  however,  the  mystery  was  quickly 
explained.  All  the  scholars  of  the  academy  were 
there,  and,  with  smiling  faces  and  words  of  welcome, 
pressed  forward  to  greet  the  new  comers.  The  trus- 
tees, too,  were  soon  discovered  in  the  background, 
quietly  enjoying  the  scene. 

"  Why,  how  secret  they  have  kept  this ! "  whispered 
Jessie  to  Marcus,  as  soon  as  she  found  an  opportunity. 
"  They  did  n't  even  let  me  know  anything  about  it  — 
I  'm  as  much  surprised  as  you  are." 

"  They  are  pretty  good  for  keeping  a  secret,"  re- 
plied Marcus,  smiling. 

"  And  who  would  have  thought  of  seeing  the  trus- 
tees here,  too  ?  Why,  I  think  it  is  quite  a  compliment 
to  you,"  continued  Jessie, 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  is  to  be  any  presentation  ?" 
whispered  Marcus,  with  a  look  of  concern. 


312  THE    FEAST. 

"  1  do  n't  know,"  replied  Jessie  ;  "  but  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  there  was  —  you  'd  better  prepare  yourself 
for  a  speech." 

After  a  season  passed  in  games,  and  conversation, 
and  pleasant  social  intercourse,  the  party  were  invited 
to  the  tables,  which  had  been  bountifully  spread  with 
good  cheer  by  the  scholars.  The  feast  was  despatched 
without  any  speeches  or  other  formalities,  but  not 
without  a  merry  interchange  of  good  feeling,  and  a 
little  of  that  "  flow  of  soul "  which,  according  to  the 
newspaper  reporters,  is  seldom  wanting  when  a  com- 
pany of  hungry  people  gather  around  a  well-filled 
table,  on  any  public  or  special  occasion.  After  the 
collation,  the  company  adjourned  to  the  front  rooms, 
and  seemed  unusually  quiet,  as  if  waiting  for  some 
expected  performance.  Pretty  soon  Marcus  arose, 
and,  with  a  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye,  said : 

"  Soon  after  I  came  in  here,  this  evening,  our 
friend,  Miss  Hapley,  whispered  to  me  that  there  would 
probably  be  a  presentation,  and  advised  me  to  be 
thinking  of  my  speech.  She  was  right,  in  her  pre- 
diction. Here  is  a  beautiful  paper  box  which  has  just 
been  put  into  my  hand  —  though,  I  am  happy  to  say, 


IP©B3    KIES3    !P52U©g 
as    FAR 


THE    BOXES.  315 

without  any  speech-making.    If  agreeable  to  the  com- 
pany, I  will  examine  its  contents." 

No  one  objecting,  Marcus,  before  opening  the  box, 
proceeded  to  describe  it.  It  was  covered  with  exquis- 
itely tinted  blue  paper,  ornamented  with  a  rich  pattern 
in  gold.  On  the  cover  was  a  beautiful  colored  engrav- 
ing, represented  on  the  opposite  page.  The  picture 
bore  an  inscription  selected  from  the  last  chapter  of 
the  book  of  Proverbs,  as  follows : 

"  WHO  CAN    FIND  A  VIRTUOUS  WOMAN  ?     FOE  HER  PRICE  IS 
FAR  ABOVE   RUBIES." 

Marcus  then  opened  the  box,  and  found  within  it 
another  box,  similar  to  the  first,  which  bore  this  in- 
scription, from  the  same  book  and  chapter,  with  an 
appropriate  illustration,  similar  in  style  to  the  first : 

"  SHE  SEEKETH  WOOL,  AND  FLAX,  AND  WORKETH  WILLINGLY 
WITH  HER  HANDS." 

On  opening  this,  a  third  box  appeared,  with  a 
device  illustrating  this  motto  : 


'SHE    RISETH  ALSO   WHILE   IT   IS   TET   NIGHT,  AND  GIVETH 
HEAT  TO  HER  HOUSEHOLD." 

27 


316  MORE    BOXES. 

This  contained  a  fourth  box,  corresponding  with  the 
others,  and  bearing  this  motto : 

"  SHE  GIRDETH  HER  LOINS  WITH  STRENGTH,  AND  STRENGTH* 
ENETH  HER  ARMS." 

Within  this  Marcus  found  another  box,  which  bore 
an  engraving  illustrating  this  verse  : 

"  SHE  LAYETH  HER  HANDS  TO  THE  SPINDLE,  AND  HER  HANDS 
HOLD  THE  DISTAFF." 

Opening  this,  a  sixth  box  disclosed  itself,  with  this 
verse  illustrated : 

"SHE  STRETCHETH  OUT  HER  HAND  TO  THE  POOR;  TEA,  SHB 
REACHETH  FORTH  HER  HANDS  TO  THE  NEEDY." 

There  was  still  another  box,  within  this,  with  its 
engraving,  thus  inscribed : 

"  STRENGTH    AND     HONOR    ARE     HER     CLOTHING ;     AND    SHE 
SHALL  REJOICE  IN  TIME  TO  COME." 

And  within  this  another  box  appeared,  with  this  for 
its  motto : 

"  SHE  OPENETH  HER  MOUTH  WITH  WISDOM ;  AND  IN  HER 
TONGUE  IS  THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS." 


CURIOSITY    EXCITED.  317 

Marcus  opened  this  box,  and  found  within  it  yet 
another,  with  a  vignette  illustrating  this  verse  : 

"MANY  DAUGHTERS  HAVE  DONE  VIRTUOUSLY,  BUT  THOU 
EXCELLEST  THEM  ALL." 

Within  this,  a  tenth  box  was  found,  on  the  cover  of 
which  was  inscribed : 

"GIVE  HER   OP   THE   FRUIT   OP   HER   HANDS;  AND  LET  HER 
OWN  WORKS  PRAISE  HER  IN  THE  GATES." 

As  Marcus  opened  these  boxes,  and  read  the  in- 
scriptions  to  the  company,  he  freely  gave  expression 
to  exclamations  of  surprise,  mingled  with  running 
comments  on  the  pictures.  All  present  watched  the 
proceedings  with  much  interest,  but  none  more  than 
Jessie,  to  whom  the  whole  affair  was  an  enigma.  She 
even  asked  a  young  lady  at  her  side  what  Marcus 
could  do  with  all  those  little  boxes.  She  could  imag- 
ine that  a  lady  might  find  them  useful,  but  the  gift  did 
not  strike  her  as  particularly  appropriate  for  a  young 
gentleman.  It  was  not  until  the  opening  of  the  tenth 
box,  that  Jessie  began  to  understand  the  matter.  On 
opening  this  box,  Marcus  took  from  it  a  piece  of 
yuper,  and  read  aloud  the  following  : 
27* 


318  ANOTHER     SURPRISE. 

rt  The  trustees,  teachers  and  pupils  of  Highburg 
Academy  beg  Miss  Jessie  Hapley  to  accept  of  this 
trifle,  as  a  slight  token  of  their  appreciation  of  her 
many  virtues,  and  of  her  faithful  labors  as  a  student 
and  assistant  teacher  in  the  institution.  *  Many 
daughters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest 
them  all."' 


"  The  box  contains  a  porte-monnaie,"  continued 
Marcus,  "  which,  from  the  weight,  I  should  judge 
contained  something  more  substantial  than  promises  to 
pay.  Here,  Jessie,  step  this  way." 

On  hearing  her  name  read,  in  the  note  of  presenta- 
tion, Jessie  suddenly  darted  towards  the  entry,  but 
was  arrested  by  several  of  her  schoolmates,  who  led 
her  back,  covered  with  blushes,  to  Marcus.  She 
whispered  a  few  words  to  the  latter,  who  immediately 
arose,  and  said  to  the  company  : 

"  Miss  Hapley  requests  me  to  say  that  she  is  too 
much  overcome  by  this  unexpected  token  of  you? 
kindness,  to  make  a  suitable  acknowledgment  in  per- 
son ;  but  she  desires  me  to  express  to  the  company 
her  grateful  thanks  for  the  gift  and  the  compliment 
bestowed  upon  her." 


DEMONSTB  ATIONS.  319 

As  soon  as  Marcus  had  finished,  there  was  a  gen- 
eral clapping  of  hands,  after  which  Mr.  Upton  started 
the  Grade  of  Honor  song,  and  the  whole  assembly 
joined,  singing : 

"Who  are  these,  with  honors  decked? 

The  faithful,  good  and  true; 
They  are  spirits  choice,  select, 

A  brave  but  noble  few. 
Scorn  they  whatsoe'er  is  base, 

They  act  no  double  part; 
Honor 's  written  on  their  face, 

And  Duty  in  their  heart." 

Those  who  lived  at  a  distance  began  to  depart, 
soon  after  these  ceremonies,  but  the  festivities  were 
kept  up  by  others  for  an  hour  longer.  Jessie,  on 
examining  her  porte-monnaie,  found  within  it  ten 
bright  golden  dollars,  • —  a  gift  as  timely,  appropriate 
and  acceptable  to  her,  in  her  straitened  circumstances, 
as  it  was  well  deserved  on  her  part,  and  honorable  to 
those  who  bestowed  it. 

Tears  of  gratitude  and  joy  moistened  Jessie's  eyes, 
long  after  every  other  eye  under  the  roof  was  closed 
in  slumber ;  and  as  her  sleepless  and  busy  thoughts 
lingered  around  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  day  and 


320  THE    END. 

evening,  ever  and  anon  darting  back  over  the  eventful 
months  that  were  past,  or  flitting  forward  into  the 
unknown  future,  she  felt  that  she  had  reached  a  point 
where  it  was  meet  that  she  should  "  thank  God  and 
take  courage." 


LIBRARY 


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